The Elf King
by Deliverer
Summary: Legends had been written of the mysterious Woodland King, poems and stories told of daughters, queen, and king all. Few were flattering, not all were false, but some were so misunderstood. How could any tell what was truth and lie when he stayed the mystery, a story told to frighten children? How could they learn when he did not care to show the truth? Do they fear enough to kill?
1. Der Erlkonig

**The Elf King**

(A/N: I should not be posting this, I should be focusing on school. I couldn't resist, though.

I know a lot of people take issue with the way Thranduil was portrayed in the films, but personally I love it. Mainly because I'm into folklore and even in the books Thranduil is the elf I found to be most similar to the elves of traditional folklore. Fair Folk/Fae right down to the Fairy Circles in the forest, the love of music and feasts, and the fact that he's just as likely to genuinely help someone out of pity as he is to slip some malicious or cruel trick or order into a promise or action. I wanted to play with this aspect of the mysteriously underdeveloped elvenking and throw in more of the folklore aspects.

This will probably be a series of ongoing oneshots, or at least will seem like that at first as I weave it together, but may end up an actual story. Some of the chapters and bits of is past will be based on poems [this first one being based on Goethe's poem _Der Erlkonig_ , which is in italics and only seen in the first paragraph of this story] or songs, and others completely of my own design. Enjoy. Hopefully you like it. This takes place some time before the Hobbit movies, Bain is only probably about five or six here, if that. Tilda isn't born yet, and trade between Mirkwood and Esgaroth is sort of lulling for reasons.)

Der Erlkonig

The horse thundered through the forest of Mirkwood as quickly as Bard could make it go. The trees stretched out their branches to catch his cloak or clothes, or to snag his steed or his son and stop their flight. The moon was full, the stars bright, but here in this forest who could tell? The horse burst out onto a path. Glimpses of the sky became visible, but only fleeting. The wind blew mournfully and low through the trees. It felt as though eyes were on them. It seemed as if every element was there for the sole purpose of keeping him from getting Bain help.

His child was burning up, his fever dangerously high. Despite the heat, the child was shivering as if freezing cold. The boy's coughs shook painfully in the little chest, rattling his breathing. He whimpered and drew nearer to Bard, clutching his father's shirt in his little fist. Bard's grip on him tightened and he drew his cloak around the child to try and keep him warm and safe. Bain whimpered again, burying his face fearfully in his father's chest.

…

 _Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?  
The father it is, with his infant so dear;  
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,  
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm._

…

His son was deathly ill, this much he gathered. If Bain did not get help soon… His little boy was dying, that could not be denied. Would he survive even with help? He had to. Bard would not and could not lose his little one. "My son, why do you seek to hide your face?" Bard cooed gently, trying to soothe the weak child.

"Look, father, the Elf King! He runs at our side," Bain tearfully replied, shaking as his eyes fell on a ghostly figure moving nimbly through the trees along the path, following their course, moving alongside the galloping steed, though how he could keep pace with them the child knew not. His piercing eyes watched silent, mysterious, warm and yet frightening… So hollow but so beautiful… "Do you not see? The Elf King moves through the forest with crown and train."

"It is only the mist, my darling, the mist rising over the forest plains," Bard answered, voice wavering as he tried to comfort his anxious child. His eyes, though, scanned the woods cautiously, desperately, searching for a glimpse of this Elfin King of which his son spoke. He could see nothing, and yet he sensed… He sensed something was there…

…

 _"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?"  
"Look, father, the Elf King is close by our side!  
Dost see not the Elf King, with crown and with train?"  
"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."_

…

A voice spoke closely in the child's ear, gentle, reassuring… haunting… The voice was there, but the figure was still in the woods, racing alongside the horse. The words he spoke echoed in little Bain's mind. "Come, dear infant, come with me," the Elvenking said. "Many a game I will play with thee there in my kingdom. On my strand lovely flowers bloom and brighten the beaches of the river, and my mother shall grace thee with garments of gold to wear. Come, little one, come."

…

 _"Oh, come, thou dear infant! Oh come thou with me!  
For many a game I will play there with thee;  
On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,  
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."_

…

Bain felt comforted, but with that comfort came fear, because he knew this Elf King's words should not bring him comfort. They were frightening. Why was the Elfin King trying to take him from daddy? "Da, da, don't you hear him? Don't you hear what he whispers in mine ear?" Bain asked, voice breaking as tears burned in his eyes.

"Be calm, dearest darling, 'tis your imagination running away from you. What you hear is the sad wind that sighs through the dying leaves," Bard answered. Inwardly terror gripped him. He heard no words. Why could he not hear? Why could he not see? What was it Bain sensed? What creature lurked?! His gaze was solely focused on the road as he willed the horse to go faster still. A terrifying knowledge came to him. Something was out there… Something he could not protect his son from...

…

 _"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear  
The words that the Elf King now breathes in mine ear?"  
"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;  
'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."_

…

Bain felt comforted by his father's words. He sniffed, burying himself closer into Bard. He felt so, so tired. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. For a moment he dared to feel safe and protected enough to try… And then the voice of the Elfin King returned, and he said, "Wilt you go, then, dear child, wilt you go with me there?" Bain's eyes widened in fear and he clung to Bard tightly. Why wouldn't it go away? Why did he feel those words meant 'will you then go with me to death' instead of something else? He could not tell if it was a threat or if the voice was urging him to continue fighting it. "My daughters shall tend to you in the palace. Tend to you as if you were their own brother. The elfin festival of tonight they will keep, and in the fairy circle they will dance with you and rock you and sing you to sleep," the Elf King promised. Thoughts of death left the boy for a moment, and he felt less scared and more curious, but still uneasy.

…

 _"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?  
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care;  
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,  
They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."_

…

"Daddy, daddy, don't you see how the elf king has brought his daughters here to play with me?!" Bain demanded, voice awed and filled with wonder as beautiful maidens appeared at the side of the Elvenking, racing along with him and reaching out their hands for the little boy, giggling and whispering. One had fiery red hair. He had never seen hair so red. She was so pretty. Another had brown hair, and a third black hair. They were so beautiful, and they looked so kind. Maybe if he went with them he would feel better and not so cold and hot at the same time… And not so sleepy and in pain…

"My darling, my darling, I see it. It is only the aged and grey willows deceiving your eyes," Bard answered, disguising the sob with which he'd said those words so that his son would not feel scared or any more panicked. The boy was hallucinating, having delusions. Dammit, when would this accursed forest _end_?! He wanted to scream for help, pray that any woodsman or his wife hearing would come and aid them… But he knew no woodsman was near… Nothing was near… Or if something was, it was not friendly.

…

 _"My father, my father, and dost thou not see,  
How the Elf King his daughters has brought here for me?"  
"My darling, my darling, I see it aright,  
'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight."_

…

Bain felt his grip loosening on his father's shirt. He felt so weak. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the pain and confusion to stop. Maybe daddy was right and he was imagining this all…

"I love thee, I'm charmed by thy beauty, dear boy! And if you will not come willingly, then I will bring you by force," the Elf King declared in urgency, and he was suddenly right next to the horse! He reached out his pale hand, decorated with rings, and seized the child's arm tightly, painfully. Bain felt ice and fire burning his skin, branding him. He screamed. He wasn't seeing things, he wasn't, he wasn't! The Elf King was real!

"Daddy, daddy, he has taken my arm fast in his hand, daddy!" Bain shrieked. "Daddy, his fingers burn me, daddy, they're so cold! Daddy, daddy, he has hurt me sorely!" Bain shuddered violently as some mystic power flowed into him. He collapsed weakly against his father's chest with a strangled sigh, lips agape and eyes open and seeing nothing…

…

 _"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!  
And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."  
"My father, my father, he seizes me fast,  
For sorely the Elf King has hurt me at last."_

…

Bard galloped madly, half wild with terror on hearing his son's shrieked words. Something was there! Something was hurting his child! Bain, Bain, Bain! "Hold on, my darling, hold on! We're almost there! My darling look, there is Esgaroth! There is home! You will be safe, my precious child. Bain, you must be brave, you must hold on!" Bard pled frantically as he kicked the horse's flank as hard as he could, sending the animal galloping top speed with a shriek, pushing itself harder than it ever had before! He grasped his son in his arms as his poor child shuddered violently. They were almost there. Only a little longer. They were almost there. Please, please, do not let it be too late.

Bard galloped out of the forest and only when he was near Laketown did he leap from his steed, clutching his son tightly to his breast in dread. They must reach home and call a healer! Only now did he dare to look down at his son, holding his breath and praying for the best… But the best was too much to ask for… On seeing his child, his hopeful expression crumbled to complete and utter despair and he froze in his tracks. The child in his arms lay motionless, eyes wide in death and lips parted. _Dead, dead, dead_. No, this couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening! _No_! "Bain!" Bard shrieked in despair, collapsing to his knees and laying the boy down. "Bain, Bain, open your eyes! By the one, open your eyes, open them! Bain!" he shrieked madly, clinging to his little boy in desperation and shaking him. "Bain!" he screamed with a sob, pulling the boy's body up and into his arms, resting him against his chest as he wept without restraint, rocking his son's body gently back and forth as despair consumed him.

…

 _The father now gallops, with terror half wild,  
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;  
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,  
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead._

LotR

Bard sobbed silently over his child's body, holding Bain near and willing it not to be true. Rain fell from the skies above. It was not a gentle rain, but though he was soaking wet, Bard hardly noticed, still in denial. He sensed a presence at the edge of the forest and looked shakily up ahead, though he didn't turn. He didn't dare to. He closed his eyes tightly, recalling Bain's final shriek. The elf king had seized hold of him. The elf king hurt him. His teeth clenched dangerously, darkly, and he turned his head swiftly around scowling murderously at whatever may be there…

At the edge of the trees stood a pale being who seemed to glow in the moonlight. Upon the figure's head rested a crown of berries and red leaves. In his hand he held a carven staff of oak. The moonbeams caught his hair, lighting it up in a ghostly way so that the creature at the edge of Mirkwood seemed almost to be a ghost… But he knew what it was… Before his eyes stood the Elvenking watching coldly, expressionlessly, without pity or any hint of empathy. In the branches he heard the whispers of elf maids. The daughters of the Elvenking. The ruler of Mirkwood tilted his head ever so slightly to the side then turned and walked away, vanishing into the forest. Rage and hatred filled Bard, then, and he screamed a curse after the fae, vowing vengeance for the death of his son.

LotR

Bard's wife sobbed over the body of her child, holding him close. Sigrid too was weeping, hugging her brother tightly and refusing to believe he was dead. "He isn't dead, daddy, he isn't, he isn't!" she screamed. "He can't be! He's alive, I feel him, he's alive!" Bard couldn't hear them anymore, still inwardly raging and promising to himself that the elven king would not get away with this death. The fever had come on suddenly, and his son's shivering. At first Bard had wondered what had brought the sickness on so quickly and out of the blue… Now he knew… Now he knew… The fair folk had stolen away his child from him, and so they would pay a price equal to his own son's life.

No… No, he was not the 'great' elf king Thranduil. It was not in his heart or his soul to be able to kill or steal away a child of the fae or of any being that existed upon this earth. He went to his son's bedside and gently placed his hand on his dead boy's hair. His mouth quivered and he sobbed, covering it. Sigrid clung to Bain, crying and now not letting her mother or father near to try and take him and bury him. His wife fell into his arms, dissolving into tears. Bain's body shimmered in the gloom briefly. None of them saw…

It was not until hours later that his wife had finally cried herself to sleep, as had Sigrid. Bard was quiet, sitting up in bed. If only he could cry himself to sleep as well… And never wake up… He looked over at his sleeping wife with her swollen belly and gently reached out, touching it. Their pending child would never know her brother… That thought caused him such heartache that he hardly thought he could bear it. He clutched his chest tightly and bowed his head, starting to silently weep again. Soon recovering himself, he looked darkly up, teeth clenched and tears blurring his vision. The elvenking would pay… Tomorrow he would gather all who were willing to come, be they man or woman, old or young, and he would lead them into Mirkwood. They would find the hidden palace, and they would attack it and they would kill its king.

Were he thinking rationally he would have seen all that was wrong with that plan. Leading a small party of men and women into Mirkwood forest in vengeance for a lost child would end in the death of the party from starvation in the woods when they became lost, or death by spiders and orcs. Even should they survive those dangers, the palace was impossible to find. The Elf King had ensured it was so. Should by some miracle they discover it, what then? The gates would be locked, the elven guards would be on patrol. If they dared near, they would all be killed. No elf blood would be spilled against an untrained band of grief-stricken humans. If, Iluvatar willing, they got beyond the gates and into the palace, they would go no further. Either they would be shot down, or a spell would be put upon them and they would be forever imprisoned in Mirkwood's halls, prisoners or sentient decorations, forever living and able to see the world moving on, but unable to join it. The elves were dark, the elves were dangerous, the elves were cruel, and they would show no mercy to impudent humans seeking revenge and retribution.

However, Bard was not thinking rationally, and sure as night followed day or vice versa, within three days a good sized party of volunteers had been gathered up all together and were setting out for Mirkwood forest…

LotR

The forest loomed up ahead, dark and gloomy. Fear began to take hold of the group, but Bard pressed on boldly. Those who changed their minds and desired to turn back were welcome to, and he had made that clear. Even if he were the only one left to press onwards and lay siege to Thranduil's Kingdom, he would keep going. He would not look back. Nothing short of death would stand in the grieving father's way. And if he could somehow get away with defying death, even for a short while, he would do so to take his revenge.

None had turned back by the time they entered the forest. The horses paused, though, on their riders' command. The citizens of Lake Town frowned confusedly. Did Mirkwood for once actually look… normal, perhaps was the word? The path stretched before them. It was not covered over by branches as it had been. It was clear and it was bright and dare they say it inviting. Immediately suspicion was raised. Rumor of the power of the Elfin King's illusions had become legend amongst them. Had he warped this Mirkwood path into something warm and friendly, something was very wrong… He suspected…

Bard himself very nearly turned back, a little bit of common sense coming back to him. If this was a trap, he would not lead all these people to death… Not even for the sake of revenge… He would go himself… But the path did not feel like a trap. It felt like… like a challenge… Not an unfriendly challenge, however, but a welcome one. After a moment's deliberation, Bard pressed on ahead. Those who wished to turn back would. None did. All followed him, relishing in awe at the sudden beauty of the forest. Even still, none dared to wander off of the path. If they did, they knew the forest would suddenly become much less… friendly, if you could call this that. They heard singing in the distance and from the river. The Barge Elves and elves that played in the trees and watched over the passage of the mortals. As the mortals neared, though, song died, and suddenly the forest would become eerily quiet… Almost as if they knew what the intention of these humans was…

LotR

In the halls of hewn stone, the elvenking sat upon his elaborate throne, his fingers playing over the staff of carven oak. A young ellon approached him, head held high as if he were royalty, and every movement was grace in itself beyond even that of the average elf. It was a grace he had inherited from his sire and even still had yet to master. Without missing a beat the young elf fell to his knee before the throne of the king and took the outstretched hand, kissing it tenderly in a show of reverence and submission.

"Speak your piece," the Elfin king commanded.

"My Lord, the trees have taken note of a party of about twenty-three men, armed and marching to lay siege upon us," the elf answered, head bowed to the king so as not to meet his eyes, for that could be taken as a sign of great disrespect, depending on circumstances.

"I am aware. The whispers of the forest have not failed to reach my ears," the elf king answered. "They walk unhindered down a peaceful path unmolested by spiders, orcs, or darkness, for I have dained it to be so and my illusions are powerful, my orders obeyed."

"And what are your orders, my liege?" the young elf questioned.

"Let them come, undetained, unassailed. Command the guards to leave open the gates of the walls and the doors to the palace then go on their way and hide. They are to pay no heed to the mortals. Command those in the kingdom to hide themselves away as well, and those in the palace to go to their rooms and remain there ne'er coming out until they receive my orders to the contrary, or yours. When that is done, you too must go to your chambers and lock them tight, and let nothing draw you out," the Elven King answered.

"Let them come into our home without protest, armed and prepared for battle?" the young elf questioned, quickly looking up with eyes narrowed. "What is the meaning of this? What is your purpose?" he demanded.

"My purpose is of no concern of yours," the elvenking answered, giving the one before him a look that threatened him not to question.

"I…" the young elf began before recalling his place and whose presence he was in. He bowed his head once more, looking away from the eyes of his king in submission once more. "And you, your majesty?" the young elf asked, but his tone was hollow, and there was unease veiled but present as well in his voice and question.

"I will remain here, and let them come to me in their rage and lust for vengeance," the elf king answered.

"Will you fight them?" the young elf questioned. In response, three blades were laid down before the young elf. He looked up once more, concern and fear flashing briefly in his eyes before he hid it.

"No," the king replied as he returned to his position on his throne.

The young elf was silent. "They will kill you…" he finally said.

"Perhaps," the king confirmed.

"Hir-nin Thranduil…" the young elf began.

"Obey my orders," the king said. "That is your task, Legolas."

Legolas swallowed and bowed his head once more, closing his eyes. "Yes, hir-nin," he answered in a tone hardly above a whisper as tears threatened his eyes that he was unwilling to shed in front of his king. He had long ago become accustomed to holding back tears… It would seem this time it did not work, for he felt one slip down his pale cheek.

Gently a cool hand that somehow made him feel warm and comforted slipped under his chin, gently tilting it. He opened his eyes to look up at his king who gently wiped away the tear with a thumb, a brief moment of tenderness and compassion flashing in his eyes before it vanished once more to the cold, impassive, stoic gaze. It was gestures such as these that differentiated the young elf from all others in the kingdom, in all of Middle Earth, and told that he was held greater and in higher esteem than all of them in the eyes of the king. It was gestures like these that revealed to any who were lucky enough to witness that this particular elf was worth more to the Elvenking of Mirkwood than anything else had ever or would ever be.

"My son, so afeared of what has not yet come to pass, mourning before the time for mourning has come," the elvenking murmured. He tilted his head ever so slightly. "What now are these tears slipping down your pale cheeks? Why do you weep for what you have not yet lost, tithen-las?"

"I weep because I may yet lose that which is with me now, Ada," Legolas answered. He had already lost him long ago in emotion and spirit and mind and love. He would not lose him in body too. Thranduil's hand slipped out from under the young elf's chin and gently brushed through his hair. Legolas leaned into the increasingly rare touch, closing his eyes once more and covering the king's hand with his own, fearfully squeezing it.

"You are ready, ion-nin," Thranduil declared.

"You know I am not, father," Legolas answered.

Thranduil rose from his throne and drew his son up. "You will be a great king," he stated. "Even should some great ill befall me, or death, you will endure…"

"You cannot be sure," Legolas argued.

"Does not a father know the child of his body?" Thranduil questioned.

"Not all of them… Do _you_ , Ada?" Legolas questioned right back. A brief smirk tugged at Thranduil's lips.

"Your words are wise, my Greenleaf," Thranduil answered. "I promise you now that you will be alright… Now go. Heed my commands and make haste. They draw near." Legolas took up his father's blades and nodded, turning and walking away, wiping his eyes and erasing all hint of tears or emotion.

LotR

The men of Lake Town marched boldly up to the gated walls of the kingdom, anger and fury and mourning driving them all on with their weapons and torches and on occasion pitchforks, more suited for ogre hunting than elf hunting. They paid no heed, say for a fleeting thought, to the fact no elf hindered them at the gates and that they were open wide. They paid little more interest to the fact the doors to the elvenking's halls were left open so that anything that neared could walk in. Of course had anything done so, they would have likely assumed the halls were long abandoned, as did the men now as they slowed their pace, for nothing stirred, nothing breathed. It was dead silence. Not even the whisper of the wind echoed through the barren halls, and they paused, quiet.

Nothing was there, or so it seemed, but something drove them onward, some otherworldly call heard only in their minds but not by their ears. They marched forth, the bereaved father in the lead, eyes burning with desire. Desire to see the elvenking's blood soak the ground before him and have his son avenged. They went swiftly through the halls as if they knew its paths, but they knew nothing. Never had they been here. Something was guiding them, and they knew that should they ever have opportunity to enter these halls again, they would not so easily find the path. If no one else, then Bard at least got the sense he knew what that something guiding them was… Then all at once it was there, the grand throne high above, and seated upon it a solitary figure.

They were frozen in their tracks as his daunting, pale, eerie eyes fell upon them emotionlessly. His eyes reminded the men of a coming storm far in the distance, menacingly approaching and dangerous in its might and power. They unnerved and threatened without even trying, and stripped away all defences thrown up about them so that they felt as though even as they stood he was casting some wicked spell or curse on them.

"I hinder you not," he said, his voice echoing through the halls, authoritative and bold. His voice commanded respect, and commanded obedience and reverence and fear. It was a tone that any would find hard to deny or defy, a voice the chilled them to their bones.

They took the invitation as if it had been a command, and they approached him swiftly, weapons drawn. As they neared their anger and grief and determination returned to them and they called for blood and death and repayment for the lost life of the child. A child the people of Esgaroth could not afford to lose, for the infant mortality rates were abnormally high in their hometown, and more children died than survived in that rough place and that rough life so that those who made it even to five years were considered miracles and could not afford to be lost.

They seized the elvenking from his throne and dragged him to his feet, binding his arms tightly behind him and roughly forcing him into their midst to stand before the bereaved father of the child lost. Thranduil stood tall and proud, head held high and no trace of fear within him though he felt death creeping upon him. He deigned himself to gaze into the eyes of the mourning father without expression, or regret, or remorse. Bard met the piercing gaze silently, grimly. Part of him tried to feel compassion or pity for the elfin prisoner before him, but any he could have felt was wiped away by the memory of his suffering and terrified son shivering in his arms, and by the unapologetic look in the elf king's eyes. He felt only disgust and scoffed, turning his back. "Do what you will to him," he ordered his own. The elf would not fight.

Thranduil felt a rope slipped around his neck and pulled taut. He was shoved to his knees and a blade went against his throat as if they were yet deciding whether to hang him, behead him, slit his throat, or impale him. Now, though, he spoke. "Will you sentence me to death without first hearing my defense?" he questioned the bargeman.

"What defense could you possibly give?" Bard hissed.

"I took your child, yes, but I did not take him to death," Thranduil said. "I saved his life."

"If you saved his life, why does his body lie cold and pale in my house?!" Bard demanded, spinning viciously around.

"Because the body is not the body of your child," Thranduil answered darkly. "It is the body of an elfling who drowned in the river before his parents could reach him. It is a changeling, mortal, a changeling child put in place of your son so that my people could take away your own and nurse him back to health without the hindrance of your folk and your cures standing in the way. There was no time to tell you only elven medicine would save him and convince you of our sincerity. There was no time to discuss the terms of his treatment or explain what was happening, and bowman, would you have let him go had we asked you directly? Would you have let the wicked elves in the woods, of whom so many cruel stories have been told—not all of them false—bear away your child to an invisible and hidden realm you would never have found had I not desired it?"

LotR

Bard felt numb. "You lie," he finally breathed.

"When you return home, you will see the form of the elf child who died, not the form of your son. Your wife and daughter would have already seen and known the truth of it, though I do not doubt they fear, now, that he was kidnapped and will never be returned," Thranduil said.

"You lie!" Bard yelled, despite the hope and desire that filled him. What if it was truth? "Why would you help him? What could you gain?!"

"Nothing," Thranduil answered. "He was a beautiful child, man of Lake Town, and when I saw that he was dying of an ailment no mortal medicine could heal, I felt pity… I had a young son, once… I have one now grown to maturity or near to it, and for memory of the times he was ill or the times I feared I would lose him, I acted in favor of yours. I beckoned for him to come, called to his spirit to answer with many a tender promise, but he resisted, and so force I had to use, and I took hold of his arm roughly. When his last cry departed his lips, I stole away his body and exchanged it for the body of the deceased elfling we had gone to recover. The daughters of the forest, my daughters though who is to say by blood or not, took him, bearing him back to my kingdom; and so here he remains in the halls of healing, recovering from the sickness he suffered."

Bard could hardly comprehend any of what had been said. What if this was a lie, a trap? Part of him hoped it was, because if it were not, they had sorely and disgracefully treated the king of the black woods unjustly, and he was innocent of wrong doing. This humiliation they willed him to suffer was for naught, and Bard and those he had led had only themselves to blame. It would be in Thranduil's authority to punish them however he saw fit. "I-I don't believe you," Bard said.

"I will bring you to him," Thranduil answered.

"Keep him bound, get him to his feet! He comes with us!" Bard ordered. "I do not believe you," he repeated numbly. The elvenking said nothing. The mortal was in shock, and so whatever he could have said would not be heard. Instead, bound and with the rope still tight around his neck, he led them through his palace towards the Healing Halls. For the countenance with which he carried himself, and the authority he retained, you could forget he was their captive, for he paid no mind to the ropes binding him so that even the men nearly forgot he was still tied between them.

LotR

The Halls of Healing loomed ahead, and Bard picked up his pace until he was practically sprinting across the way. He forgot that this could all be illusion and that he could very well be running himself over a cliff. He forgot the power of the king they had taken. Fortunately for him, there was no trick to the Elvenking's offer, and the captain of the Laketown guard, at least at this time, burst into the Healing Halls with heart pounding in his chest. "Bain? Bain!" he called out frantically. "Bain, where are you?!"

"Da?" a quiet and weak voice questioned from a room nearby, covered over by a curtain. "Da?!" he called tearfully again, hoping against hope it was his father.

Bard nearly collapsed then and there, but quickly he recovered himself and ran to the curtain, throwing it open. His eyes widened and filled with such intense emotion even he was not sure of all he was feeling. There in the bed was his little boy, all snuggled comfortably beneath blankets, clothed in an elven nightgown and clutching a stuffed deer close to his chest. Bard felt his knees weaken and leaned on the doorpost for support. Even still he slipped to his knees, clutching his chest. The knuckles on the hand clutching the doorpost were white, and he was shaking, unable to find words.

"Daddy? Did you come to take me home, da?" Bain hopefully questioned, big tears springing to his eyes. "I miss Sigrid and mama, papa, I want to go home!"

Bard gave a cry and lurched up, sprinting to his son's bedside and engulfing him in a bear hug so tight that Bain began choking a bit before Bard loosened his grip. Bain hugged his father tightly, cuddling against him. "My darling, my precious little darling, you're alive! You're alive!" Bard sobbed, breaking down. The men of Laketown watched in awe and wonder, murmuring amongst themselves and beginning to cheer and celebrate excitedly. The child was alive! Thranduil watched silently, expressionless.

"Kindly release me," he said to the men. The two holding him looked uneasily at the elvenking but soon tentatively cut loose the bonds holding him and removed the rope from around his neck. Thranduil called out something in elvish, and seemingly from nowhere elf maids and elf men began to appear, occupants of the castle, curious as to these strangers and suspicious, eyes narrowed at them dangerously. They had seen their king led bound by these men, and they were far from impressed. "Take these men, feed them, and let them rest," Thranduil ordered. "I would speak with the Bowman alone." The elves immediately moved to obey their king's orders, swiftly sweeping the men of Laketown away.

LotR

Bard, still clinging to his son and weeping, hardly acknowledged Thranduil's presence. "I love you, I love you, I love you," the elf king heard the mortal saying to his son as he drew his hands through the little one's hair and peppered him with tender kisses. He did not release the boy until Bain had fallen asleep again, still in need of rest as he had not yet fully recovered. Bard stayed by his bedside, clutching the sleeping child's hand and wishing Bain was not asleep. To see him asleep reminded him too much of seeing him dead.

There was silence some moments longer before Thranduil spoke. "Now, what to do with you and your following who would dare intrude upon my domain and attack me in my own halls," he said.

"Let the men go. It is I upon whom all blame should fall. All of this was my command, my plot against you. They are blameless," Bard said.

"That they followed erases blamelessness from them," Thranduil said.

Bard was silent. "I pri'thee, lord, let all punishment fall upon me. Should the sentence be imprisonment, death, slavery, I will accept it. Only let them go and take my son back to his mother and sister, and in return the elfling's body will be returned to you for your people to bury… I am sorry that it was lost…" he said.

"Not half as sorry as his mourning parents are," Thranduil bitterly said. For a child of elves to die so young was tragedy of the highest degree, for children were rare to his people, and when they were born there was no treasure greater or more loved and cared for… Oft the parents of a lost child faded, he knew. Three elves gone from his kingdom like a candle dying in a breeze whenever an elfling died… That was a mortal fate, it was not meant for elves… "Very well, bargeman. Your men may go with your child, but here you will remain for the rest of your days. Do you know you will never see them again, never watch your children grow? Never see the birth of your third child?"

"I know," Bard answered. As long as his son would live, and his family would survive, he would accept this fate. It was more than he deserved.

"So be it," Thranduil declared. "Tauriel, take the man to the dungeons," he ordered an unseen figure. From the shadows stepped the red-haired daughter of the wood whom Bain had seen with the other two elleth's at Thranduil's side. She looked reluctant to do so, perhaps even bitter, but she obeyed nonetheless, taking hold of Bard and gently pulling him from his son, leading him away to imprisonment. Thranduil looked once more at the child then left. He had a son of his own to visit.

LotR

Bard had resigned himself to sleeping the rest of his life on stone, a slave or prisoner for the delight of the elves. When he awoke, then, to find him and his men laying asleep on the beach of Long Lake, Bain cuddled in his arms, you can only imagine how confused he was. So much so that had he not been on a beach with all his men, his son in his arms clutching the stuffed deer and clothed in the elven nightgown, he would have believed it a dream. The others awoke equally confused, looking around. The food! It must have been drugged. But that did not account for him, Bard realized. Wait. It did if they had also drugged the water.

Bard rose with those who had followed him, cuddling Bain tightly. He would never let him go again. Swiftly the group returned to Lake Town and were greeted by cheers from the people and awe to see Bain alive and to hear the story they told. "Utter poppycock," the Master of Laketown said when report was made to him by Bard who, at that time, had been captain of the guard. "The elves of Mirkwood are as tainted and dark as the darkness that overtook their hideous forest."

Bard himself had found the forest beautiful, but there was no arguing the master. "Perhaps they are, but dangerous and dark or not, there may still be use for them," he said.

"Such as?" the Master of Laketown questioned.

"The elves would make good trading partners they would, sire," Alfrid Lickspittle said from his place at the Master's side, visibly plotting out advice to give that would benefit him and the master in some way or other even at cost of benefitting the people as well. "Their goods for our ales and fish and whatnot. It could be very profitable. We've traded with them in past. Only recent years put a pause to that, it did. Could be wise to start it up again, if that wasn't the king's whole reason for the little escapade with the brat." Bard gave Alfrid a hard look but said nothing.

"Really…" the Master mused. "But who would be daring enough to proposition the erl-king?" he questioned.

"I will offer trade to the erl-king," Bard answered boldly. He had promised, besides, to return the body of the fae child. Did he believe he would find the palace? No. In fact he didn't believe he would even be allowed to enter Mirkwood forest for some time, but he may not have to. "As Alfrid has said, we once traded with them in past days. Have him write up the agreements that will suit us better now." Though Bard got the sense many a trade agreement that was beneficial to the people more so than to the Master and Alfrid would conveniently get lost.

"Very well, we will try it," the Master said. He may not be a clever man, but he was not a fool either, and many a decision he had made had aided Lake Town in past days. "Alfrid, write up the documents."

"Sire," Alfrid replied, bowing.

"Thank you, my Lord," Bard said to the Master, bowing as well then swiftly leaving. He despised being near Alfrid or the Master any longer than absolutely necessary.

LotR

Bard rode silently towards Mirkwood, the dead elf child cradled gently in his arms. He looked down on it. He had been beautiful… Oh the pain its parents must suffer. He could now well imagine it. He felt a tightening in his throat but willed it back. He looked up once more, approaching the forest outskirts. There, just outside the trees, sat Thranduil high upon his noble elk, the creature a status symbol, a sign of power and authority, Bard knew. For him to tame and ride an elk was testament to his position. A position that differentiated him from other Elven Lords scattered across Middle Earth.

Thanduil waited as Bard approached. The guardsman rode up to him, gently wrapping the elfin child up tighter in the burial linin his wife had wrapped it in. Bard looked into Thranduil's eyes and handed the little one carefully over. Tenderly Thranduil took the elf infant from Bard, holding him close to his breast and gazing woefully down at the little body before all signs of woe vanished. "Did his family not come? Where are its parents" Bard questioned.

"His mother is dead," Thranduil said. "She has been for many centuries."

Bard looked at it softly. "And his father?" he questioned. Thranduil was silent, lovingly stroking the little cheek with a finger. There was a burning in his eyes that had long been foreign and unknown to him. This he willed back.

"His father came…" Thranduil answered, an expression of such grief flashing across his features before he masked it once more. Though this look of grief had been no more than a flash, Bard caught sight of it, and he knew the answer. The mortal's eyes widened and filled with horror, then pity, then pain and compassion.

"You…" he said. The elvenking gave no answer. He lifted the little elfling up and pressed a loving kiss to its little nose. "He was-was your son," Bard stammered.

"In a sense," Thranduil answered, neither directly confirming nor denying whether or not the child had been his own by blood or by adoption.

"What befell him?" Bard questioned.

"Children play, children explore, children go where ought not and play with what is off limits to them. Children climb and fall and hurt themselves and are tended to and lectured… But sometimes children fall and hurt themselves, and there is no one there to hear their cries… Sometimes their bodies are never found, sometimes it takes centuries or millennia to find them. Should the body be discovered again as whole and unchanged and beautiful as it was the moment it drew its last breath, it is a miracle… or a spell… or an answered prayer…" Thranduil answered.

Bard looked at the infant. He knew not how long ago the little one had died, he doubted the erl-king would answer should he ask. What he gathered of the story was enough to understand the gist. What he knew was that the body could only have just been discovered by the elves on the day he had ridden wildly for Laketown with his dying child. What struck him hardest was realizing that its father had not had time to even embrace or mourn the elfling before he had had to act to save a child of a race he despised. Hardly had the infant been set in its father's arms, empty for too long, when the elf parent had had to exchange his own little one's remains for the body of a mortal and let it go a second time, unsure if he would ever see it again.

"You should not have done it…" Bard murmured.

"No I should not have," Thranduil answered bluntly, turning his elk to enter the forest again. "There is more you wish to say, bowman?"

"Question of opening trade with your people again, but that is not a matter for now, your majesty," Bard said. "Doubtless it is the last thing you want to deal with at the moment."

"Give me the proposals," Thranduil commanded. Bard started but did so. "I will look them over when I have a moment and amend them as is befitting us both. We will reach an agreement quickly enough, I assume."

"Elf King," Bard said. Thranduil paused, looking back at him. "You spoke of your mother. What meant you by that?" All who knew anything about the elves of the woods knew their king had no parents. Various tales spoke of how that had come to be, few of them pleasant or flattering to the king, and yet Bain had told him—when he spoke to his mother and sister and father about the things the elf king told him—that Thranduil had mentioned a mother.

"My mother is the forest and all it provides. My mother is the stars and moon. My mother is a nurturing elleth who is a servant in my palace. Who or what I referred to, mortal, is none of your concern," Thranduil said.

"Elf King, who were the daughters?" Bard questioned.

"That is an answer I gave you," Thranduil answered. "They were the daughters of the woods, whether mine by blood or by title only is not your concern. They were a comfort to your son and another vow I made him."

It seemed very little was his concern, Bard dryly thought to himself, but to be fair, the elven king was right. "Elf King, why choose to be a mystery?" Bard questioned ruefully.

Thranduil glanced back at him, an amused look in his eyes. "Am I so mysterious as that, mortal?" he asked.

"More so," Bard deadpanned.

"You would do well to ask yourself if that is a mystery you truly want cleared up," Thranduil replied. With that the elvenking rode back into his forest, vanishing into the thick and dark trees.

Bard stood long before that forest pondering the questions he had, but some were best left unanswered, he knew, for he saw, now, what the elf king had alluded to. For what would become of the mystery and majesty, the beauty and wonder, of the elves and their ruler if all secrets were to be shared? Imaginings, fantasies, questions, and more would cease to be, and they would become as plain and ordinary as any man… But were all men as ordinary as that? Perhaps it was a question the elves asked themselves. Perhaps they were as much a mystery to the fae as the fae were to them, and if that were so Bard began to see why Thranduil had told him to ask himself if it was a mystery he wanted cleared up. Determining to lock his questions away forevermore, Bard turned and went back home.


	2. The Drowned Elfin Child

**The Elf King**

(A/N: Not quite a child appropriate story for Percy to tell, but then again pretty dark stuff was once read to children.)

The Drowned Elfin Child

"Alright, children, alright, gather around," Percy said with a laugh as the children began to swarm him on his return from the fishing trip. "I take it it's a story you wants to 'ear."

"Yes sir," Sigrid said for herself and the other children.

"What sort of story does you want to hear?" Percy questioned, letting the children clamber for a spot on his knees.

"A love story!" Sigrid said.

"No! An exciting one!" Bain insisted.

"I want something different. Tell us about Dale and the Lonely Mountain!" another child said.

"We've heard that one a million times!" a fourth argued.

"Well, maybe I can come up with something all of you can agree on," Percy said.

"Really? What is it about?" Sigrid questioned, eyes wide.

"Well, it's a love story, but not romantic love. It's a family's love. But it is very sad, and might be scary too. The ending is not a happy one," Percy answered.

"Oh… Who is in it?" Sigrid asked.

"Elves," Percy replied.

"What is it called?" Bain asked.

"The Drowned Elfin Child," Percy answered.

"Drowned?!" one of the children gasped in horror.

"I warned it was a sad tale. Legend has it that up the forest river there is a great Elven kingdom that has endured since the first age. In that kingdom lived a little elfin child who was very curious and loved to explore. He lived with his mother and elder sisters and his brother and younger sister. It is unknown which of the two elf boys was youngest, but 'tis safe to say they was but a year apart probably at most," Percy said. "Those little elf lads, they got themselves into all sorts of mischief, and their mother would always warn them never to go too far and to not stray too close to the rivers when she wasn't around, especially the Enchanted River at night. Do you think they listened?"

"No," the children all said together.

"Right you is. The two elf boys always would wanders down to one river or another and get into all sorts of trouble there, and climb trees and go fishing and swim sometimes with their younger sister, though they never went at night. The rivers was their favorite place. Does you know why?" Percy asked.

"Why?" the children questioned.

"Because their ma didn't want them there alone, and you little ones always take a liking to things your parents says is bad for you or dangerous," Percy said. The children giggled. Percy smiled. "Well, in time the elfin boys got to thinking what was so special about it at night that they wasn't allowed to go, so they asked their mum, and she told 'em and 'er daughters, 'Go not near the Enchanted River at night especially, for at night there walks along its banks the Erl-King himself, and stories say he has no love for naughty little elflings who disobeys their mothers. It is said that if the elf king finds a disobedient child near the banks of the river, he will catch them unawares from behind and drown them with his bare hands!'" Percy narrated, suddenly seizing Sigrid and making her scream in terror then burst into laughter, wriggling as Percy tickled her. Percy chuckled and let the girl go. His expression became grave again. "Well, the little elf child said to his mother, 'I do not fear our dark king, or his wandering shade. He will not drown me or my brother or my sisters, I will not let him!'"

"What did his mommy say?" Sigrid questioned.

"His mommy said, 'Doesn't you go down by that river, little elf child, for that is where the elf king lurks, and that is where your father fell in and drowned by the elf king's hand,'" Percy replied.

"But you said the elfling's mother told him the elf king only went after children!" Bain argued.

"The elfling said just that thing exactly to her," Percy said. "She replied, 'The elfin king does not stop at children, little elfling. Even big elves are his target, for the river he has claimed as his haunt, and any who pass it by trespass on what is his and so they must fall in too.'"

"If the elf king that bad?" Sigrid asked, eyes wide along with the other children.

"The elf king is truly wicked and cruel and merciless," Percy answered. "He sneaks from the forest, sometimes, and he takes away little children who sleep in their beds to be his slaves or children for his elves. Sometimes in their place he will leave a fae child to replace the stolen one, and the parents will not even know the difference until it is too late." The children looked uneasily at one another, wondering if any of them was a changeling. "Is the story too scary now, children?" Percy questioned.

"No, Percy, go on, go on!" Sigrid insisted along with Bain and the others. "We want to hear what happened to the elf child!"

"Well," said Percy, "the elfin child's mother left that night, leaving his sisters to watch over him and his brother and younger sister. She warned them 'Do not take your eyes off of your brother, for I fear he will wander away down to the Enchanted River and try and confront the elf king.' They agreed to this, and she left. They didn't take their eyes off of their little brothers and sister until they were sure the two were sound asleep in their beds. They knew they wasn't supposed to leave their siblings, but that night the elves would be feasting and dancing in the woods, and the elf-maid's older daughters desired 'orribly to go, so once they was sure the two ellons and the elleth were fast asleep, they slipped away. Turns out the little elf child could not sleep that night, his thoughts consumed by the elf king and wondering what he looked like, for though he was their ruler he had never seen him before. So he snuck out of his window while his brother slept, determining to go see what all the fuss was about with this elf king."

"And then…" Sigrid asked with baited breath.

"Off he totted down the road until he came to the Enchanted River and looked about. He saw no elven king there, but maybe he wasn't walking yet. The elf child decided to climb up a tree and wait for the elf king to come in hiding. Then the elfling decided he would kill the elf king with his slingshot and avenge all the little and big elves he had killed by this river; or maybe to just talk to him. The elf child didn't know yet. So he crawled out onto the branches and waited… and waited… and waited…" Percy said. The children listened, eyes wide. "Meanwhile, the elf child's sisters had come back and found their little brother missing, the others still asleep. Immediately one of the daughters raced off to search for her brother along the Enchanted River, totally unafraid of the elf king because she knew she had to get her brother and save him."

"I would do that too if Bain tried something like that," Sigrid said, frowning at her brother.

"You's a brave lass, Miss Sigrid," Percy said. "She ran as fast as she could, calling her brother's name, but she was far away still, and the elf child couldn't hear her coming… But he saw the white, eerie figure of the Elf King wandering down along the rocks of the river, singing a mournful song. The little one didn't understand why the elf king seemed so sad, and he got to thinking maybe the king wasn't evil at all and just lonely. But he stayed put, just in case, and stayed silent. As the erl-king neared, the song became dark and twisted and sinister so that the child began to shake in fear, eyes widening. He didn't think the elf king was just sad, anymore. He saw long claws reaching from his hands, and saw sharp teeth, and he knew the elf king was not like other elves. The elf child was so scared he nearly started to cry. He wanted to run away, but he didn't dare move. Or couldn't. Some say the elf king knew he was there and cast a spell on him to keep him put. Then the elf king began calling, 'Where are you, dear child? Where dost thou hide? Why hast thou hidden yourself among the trees? I only want to play, my darling one, come play a game with me…' Then the elf king vanished, and the little one didn't know where he'd gone to, but the forest was silent," Percy said.

"Where is his sister?" Sigrid fearfully asked, for though she knew where this story must be going, part of her still hoped and prayed the little elfling would escape. It seemed wicked elves hurt the smaller number of good elves as much as they hurt humans.

"His sister he could hear calling, and he decided he'd best take that moment to run to her, but suddenly he gets himself seized from behind!" Percy said, grabbing Bain. Bain shrieked and began whimpering, shaking with tears in his eyes. Nonetheless he stood, listening in morbid fascination. "The elf child, he tries to scream but the elf king has his hands wrapped around his pretty little throat, and the elf king says, 'I've found you'. The elfling, he tried to scream and fight, but he couldn't, and then the elf king drags him from the tree and shoved his head beneath the water, holding him there. The boy struggled and struggled and cried and wanted to scream for his mother or sisters, but the elf king did not relent… and soon the struggling stopped, and the elf king let the body drift far away down the river, never to be seen again…"

"Wh-what a-about his family?" Sigrid asked, tears in her eyes as well now, along with the other children.

"They never saw him again. Legend says if you travels up the Enchanted River a fair distance, and look into the depths, somewhere below you will see the body of the elf child beneath the water, looking as if he's just asleep. But if you tries to go down and bring his body up again, soon as you gets near something will seize you from behind and force you down until you drown and join the elven child in his watery grave," Percy said. "So remember, children, always listen to your parents, and never go up the Enchanted River near the realm of King Thranduil, for if you does, he'll find you there and you'll never be seen again." At the close of the story the children wandered off, and Percy went on his way.

1 Week Later

"My King," a voice urgently said as someone entered the throne room as quickly as she could.

From his carven throne the Erl-King looked up. "It must surely be something important for my Captain of the guard to see it fit to barge into my Throne Room without summons or warning," he cautioned dangerously.

"Forgive me, Hir-nin Thranduil," she answered, kneeling quickly before him then rising.

"What is it, Tauriel?" Thranduil questioned.

"My-my Lord we… we have found him," she said, voice wavering ever so slightly, tears burning her eyes. Thranduil sat up straight, eyes widening ever so slightly. There was a beat and then he rose swiftly, marching quickly. She hurried to come alongside him and guide him to the place they had found.

Thranduil gazed numbly into the swirling river. Beneath the waves, caught just so in the rays of the sunlight that were fast moving and hiding him from view again, lay a small elfin child with beautiful dark hair. Legolas stood at his father's side looking pale and emotionally drained, as did Tauriel. "Get him out," Thranduil whispered. The elves began to try. While they did, Thranduil remembered…

LotR

He remembered how oft she would tell her children not to go near the riverside without supervision. He remembered how oft they disobeyed only to be found by her or their sisters near to it and have to be dragged back protesting vehemently, saying they were big enough to be near the river if they wanted, saying they weren't infant elflings anymore… But they were… They were… He remembered her repeated attempts and talking them out of going there and warnings. He remembered _he_ never gave them any such warning… He was always so busy, so preoccupied with his duty as king. She had been the one to warn them so desperately, especially warned them about avoiding the rivers at night. She would try to frighten them. She would tell them how often he wandered by the Enchanted River, and would tell them that if ever _he_ had spotted them there, drowning would be the least of their worries… And she was right… Had he ever seen his sons near that raging river, heads would have rolled and they would have been severely punished. He had ensured his children had a healthy fear of his wrath ingrained in their heads so that they would obey and not get themselves hurt…

He remembered his father, his mother, his kin, and all who had been lost and mourned, and he would recall them in a song melancholy and frightening at the same time. He would sing it by the river and she would always spin that fact into a marvellously horrifying tale linked with it that kept his elflings far, far away in the evenings…

And then he had gone off in the first assault against Gundabad. It was not meant to be a battle, it was meant only to keep a vigil on Angmar. That vigil had turned into a battle that had lasted for months that he had been unsure he would return from… And then news came to his family that he would return, and his children had wanted so desperately to greet them but had now known how long it would take him to come back. He was supposed to return in time to enjoy the celebration prepared for him in the woods, a feast and dancing, but he had been detained and unable to attend, though it would go on as scheduled. After it was all said and done, she told him that his daughters had put the little ones to bed and gone into the forest to join the fae dance… And that that was when one of their sons had slipped away…

His elfling had been so certain that ada would come back that very night and desired to wait for him and surprise him with Legolas, but Legolas had been asleep and the other could not wake him and so gave up trying. His little one had known that ada would come along the Enchanted River so had gone there and hidden himself high up in a tree intending to attempt a sneak tickle attack on him… And he had come along the Enchanted River, and he had been alone and singing his sad song… He had felt eyes on him… Suspecting a child of his, and willing to overlook the transgression, he had called out to the child, humoring him in a game of hide and seek. Then he heard one of his daughters calling her brother desperately and become concerned. He should have stayed. He should have followed instinct. He knew he should have stayed, but fearing for his little one, fearing he had judged what he sensed wrong, he had raced to find his daughter and help her search for him. He should have stayed by the river. All of him had told him to stay there and yet he denied it. Long had he prided himself for learning from the mistakes of others… And then he had made this one.

Hardly had he joined up with his daughter racing for the river, hardly had she told him what she suspected, when they heard the shriek and the splash. They had run as quickly as they could go… It was too late… A mortal arrow belonging to a man was stuck in a branch, and hooves were heard galloping away from across the river… Blood was on the rocks where his child, startled by the arrow and having fallen into the raging river, had struck his head and knocked himself out… The river had taken the body far away, and though they had searched and searched, scouring the banks, settlements, and nearby cities, they had not found his child alive or dead. If the vanishing of Isildur's body in a river was anything to go by, they might have never found it…

LotR

Fate had placed the patrol in this spot at this exact time of day when the rays of the sun had lit up a dark recess of the river and revealed the pale body, untouched by time or decay. Fate had placed it there not for his sake—why would he be so fortunate and loved by fate now when he never had been before?—but for the sake of the mortal child that belonged to the man of Laketown who was dying in his father's arms as the steed charged through the woods. Thranduil held his child's body, had so desperately wanted to embrace it. Now it was here. Now finally his child could be buried… And then came the galloping, and he had known what must be done. Legolas had protested vehemently, livid at the idea of surrendering the body of his brother again. He had not followed. Tauriel, though, had run with Thranduil alongside the steed… The one daughter—cruelly enough also the only one not his by blood—that the child had seen who had not been an illusion conjured from memory. Memory of two elven maids who while more beautiful than any other upon Middle Earth, say for perhaps—and that was a big perhaps—Galadriel and Arwen, were also wicked down to the depths of their hearts…

Wicked… They had not always been so, but after the death of their brother by an accident of a mortal man, who had mistaken the boy for a bird and turned his bow only just in time to avoid hitting the elfling, and yet could not save the startled boy from tumbling into the river; and the death of their mother, who had died at Gundabad protecting their other brother, cruelty had grown in their hearts. Cruelty to rival that of the Elfin Queen's herself… and his… But while the Elfin Queen was wicked only sometimes, her daughters had been wicked always from that day on. Perhaps it had come from him… His daughters had been cruel always and defiant, yes; but wicked only after hatred for mortal kind—men in particular—had seeded itself in their hearts; and goodness knew they had had reason to hate men.

LotR

Now, at least, Thranduil was once more in possession of his son's body, Bard having given it to him without any strings attached say for a question of trade which was optional. He rode deep into the woods, and there he joined up with Tauriel and Legolas, both dressed in mourning. He dismounted his elk, and the three of them went to the graves. The tomb of mother and sisters all… Now the grave of brother as well…


	3. The Elvenqueen

**The Elf King**

(A/N: The next chapter will probably focus a lot more on either a little Legolas asking his ada a question, or on the elf queen's darker and crueller side and her tricks, depending on what readers want. Let me know. This one is written in a more fairy tale sort of style, similar to 'The Drowned Elfin Child' only without someone telling the story. It's quite long and focuses on the Elvenqueen, mainly, and her history leading up to the birth of their first child which shows up at like the very end. Most of it is developing her relationship with Thranduil. In this chapter I reference Blackmore's Night and their song 'Darkness'. I also, and more prominently, reference the poem 'The Elfin Knight'. Tried to make it easier to understand than the way it was originally written, but it's not exactly the best version of the poem by a long shot. Haven't edited this much either, so it may not be the greatest. Hope you enjoy nonetheless.)

The Elvenqueen

Once upon a time there lived a woodsman and his wife. One day the woodsman rode through Mirkwood Forest—at the time Greenwood—to meet up with his wife who had gone to Dale to give birth to their first child. He intended to come to Dale from his small homestead deep in the forest. There he was to meet his bride who had become pregnant and who was due to give birth. Had he not been called on to help defend a settlement from marauders he would have been at his wife's side already, but because he was held in high esteem and was a valiant fighter he had had little choice but to go. As he rode he heard, not far off, some battle, and though he desired to investigate, something kept him away, some unspoken warning, for he knew of the strange beings—elves or spirits some claimed—that lived in this forest, and he knew they were dangerous. Stories had been told of their lack of fondness for men and their penchant for illusions and cruel tricks, ways of luring mortals to them and then taking them away never to be seen again or driving them mad. He rode onward, for he had been delayed in reaching his wife's side too long as it was; and besides, he would not fall victim to an elven trick.

LotR

There was great grief in man and wife both, as they rode on towards home, for the child had not survived birth, and what they carried back was the infant's body only. The woodsman's wife had not spoken. She had hardly moved or breathed, sitting still as a statue and clutching the wrapped body close, pale. Tears flowed from his eyes, but he dared not speak. He needed to try and be strong for his bride, else he would lose her too.

The silence was shattered by the wail of a babe, and sharply the woodsman's wife turned her head in that direction. Without a word or warning she sprang from the horse and raced towards the sound. He called out to her, fearful she would vanish forever in the woods. She paid no heed and so he too leapt from his horse and pursued his love. She ran into a clearing and screamed. He sped up and was quickly by her side. He paled on seeing the sight before him. Bodies of elves were spread on the ground, and of men. There had been battle. There had been no survivor on either side. The woodsman cursed himself that he had not ridden to help, but there was no turning back time now. They heard the baby shriek again, sobbing. Immediately the woodsman's wife sought it, fearing some human child had been left alive and may be dying. Having just given birth herself, her heart cried out to the little one.

They found the bundle hidden in some shrubs. She gasped, quickly pulling it out and unwrapping the blanket from the infant's head. She covered her mouth, catching her breath. This was no human child. Held in her arms was a little elf girl, stunningly beautiful and weeping, hungry and cold. Her husband drew his sword to kill the infant, for the elves were evil so stories said, and to leave one alive would be a grave error, but she would not let him. His wife begged him in tears to let her take in the infant and raise it as their own. At first refusing, the sadness and longing in her eyes finally softened the woodsman's heart, and reluctantly he agreed and was rewarded with her kiss. Immediately she began to nurse the child, and the pain she felt at the loss of her own was lessened, even if only slightly.

As they rode the woodsman wondered. They could not disguise a fae child and hide her from the others, and should they know what she was they would desire her death. Nor could they ever bring her to town, or rarely, for though he knew little of elves he understood they aged much, much slower than mortals, and this infant would remain an infant for perhaps years before it began to look even like a one-year-old. Until she was grown, or at least appeared equivalent to a youth or maid of men, they had to keep her hidden. Fortunately their home was far from any town and any settlement, but there would be those that came, and they would need to be fooled. The elven ears would give the child away. They had to be hidden. That was a task they would leave to a Doctor to discern as he would, though it was no secret they feared what the decision of the physician would be.

LotR

They had had reason to fear, and reason to regret as they soon found out; for when the physician they had taken into their confidence returned the child and revealed his remedy, horror consumed them. The woodsman's wife screamed and fainted. The woodsman stood still and wide-eyed. The tips of the ears had been cut off and sewn up so they would look human! Cut _off_! "It was the only way," the physician said, but the woodsman knew it for a lie. The physician had no love for elves and had likely relished in causing the babe pain. "As long as the wound remains stitched, the ears will not come back. Perhaps they will never grow back regardless." There was a sick satisfaction in his voice, and when finally they left, the woodsman's wife's rage was great. So much so that she shook with it and willed her husband to kill the physician. He refused, for the man was the only doctor nearby to the settlement they lived outside of, and should he die they would have no one. She raged at the response but understood it, and soon time cooled her anger as she was consumed in her attentions to the little elven child.

The child they called a mystery and addressed her as such, so A Mystery was the name she knew and the name she stayed by, and whenever she asked her quickly aging parents why she had not been given a proper name, and why she seemed to grow so slowly when they aged so quick, they would not say, and only told her that it was because she was not like other men. No matter how she pushed they would tell her no more, and the child grew confused and lost as to what or who she was and where she had come from. Always her father would assure her that one day she would know all. She did not want to wait to know, but she knew she must.

When the child was twenty she appeared no older than seven years of age. At that time her mother gave birth to a child, a daughter as well, and she and her human sister drew very close and loved each other deeply. All the more so as they grew. The elfin girl had a penchant for pulling tricks, sometimes cruel, sometimes playful. Those who came through their part of the woods she loved to help but preferred to mislead. She was mischievous and often cold. Many a time her parents lectured her for the cruelty of some of her tricks or games, and for a time it would calm her. It seemed, though, such things were in her nature. Nonetheless, despite all of this her life among her mortal family was happy. All the while the truth as to who and what she was remained secret.

LotR

She was thirty when the first dream came to her. Was it a dream, a summons, or a memory? A beautiful song echoing in her memories sung by a woman and a man, but not the parents she had grown with. In her dreams there came an image of a hidden kingdom, beautiful beyond her wildest imaginings. The mysterious doors opened wide and revealed a great kingdom, beautiful and sprawling, and a palace carved into a cavern deep, yet still you could hardly tell you had left the forest. The palace was filled with paths weaving in and out in a veritable labyrinth, high above ground with waters rushing below. Despite the maze-like pathways, all within seemed to know their way perfectly. There came into her mind's eye a vision of a king sitting proud upon a great throne… Then the kingdom vanished, and she saw battle. She saw an elven woman placing a small child hidden in a bush, weeping. She kissed the child, concealing it from sight, and raced to join the battle.

The child woke from her dream with a scream. Her parents rushed frantically into her room and questioned her as to the dream. She related it all to them, and it was then she noticed their grave change. "Mother, father, what is wrong?" she questioned them worriedly as her little sister rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Her mother looked away. Her father, however, answered, "It is time, child, to give you something. Something we found in the forest long ago shortly after you came into our lives."

"What is it?" she questioned.

"The key to your past. The key to learning who and what you are," he answered.

"What I am? I am your daughter. I am human," she said uneasily, but the words sounded like a lie in her mouth though she didn't know why. They were quiet. "Nanna, ada, aren't I?" she questioned fearfully. She never knew where she'd picked up the words nanna and ada, but they were what she always called her parents.

Her father did not answer directly. Instead he gave to her a little box and said, "Within are the answers you seek. Answers that even we cannot give you, my darling. It is time you learned. You are not our daughter by birth." The little girl caught her breath, paling. Gently her parents narrated all that had happened that led them to finding her, cutting out reference to what she was. "When you were settled, I returned to the clearing to bury the dead. There I found this box on the body of a woman who surely had been your mother," the woodsman finished. "In it I know you will find your answers. In time."

"Is there a key?" she questioned, tears threatening her eyes but not falling.

"There is not," he answered.

"Then how am I to open it, father?" she questioned.

"Only elven magic will do so," he answered. "I know, now, that elves are not as wicked as once I believed… When you go to them, they will help you, but do not set out for a time yet. Not until you are fully grown. Promise me."

"I promise," she said, wiping her eyes and sniffing.

LotR

Of course, for a child such as her loopholes were bound to be found in her oaths and exploited. Not many days later, she and her sister snuck out of their house. They rode to the clearing where the battle of long ago had taken place. The one that their father had spoken of. The two little girls slid from the back of their shared horse and looked around the clearing. The younger sister, only ten, slipped up behind her older sister—thirty now though she looked about ten as well—and hugged her fearfully. "This is the place, then?" she questioned uneasily.

"It is," the elf girl answered. "This is where they found me… My birth parents were killed here…"

"There will be nothing to find, sister. Let's go home," her little sibling said, suddenly wanting to leave. The forest was not safe. The forest was scary. She didn't understand why her elder sibling loved it so much and always slipped away to play in it for hours. She would never do that. It frightened her and she didn't trust it. She feared the creatures that lurked within, elves that stole away children and left changelings in their place, elves that took children to be slaves, strange little woodsmen, wildmen she believed, who were said to be evil, etc. It confused her why her elder sister seemed to trust this forest so implicitly. You would think she was born with a connection to it or something.

"Will there not be?" the elfin girl questioned, entering into the clearing gracefully and looking around for signs of visitors or ancient hints. Her sister joined her and also began seeking.

The younger went to a tree and examined the bark. An arrow may have pierced it in battle. She started as a glint shone in the bark. "Sister, come here!" she called. The elfin girl turned and quickly went to her sibling. She pried the object from the bark and let it fall into her hand. "An arrowhead," her little sister said.

The elfin girl held it up to the light. In the arrowhead were etched elven words, and part of her recognized them in some way though she couldn't understand what they said. They seemed familiar, though… The language seemed familiar. "It is an arrowhead from the kingdom of Greenwood," her sister said in awe with a gasp. "The place from mommy and daddy's stories!"

"Greenwood? But that is only a fairy tale," the elf girl replied in shock. She had stopped believing fairy stories long ago.

"Not all stories are fiction!" her little sister protested vehemently. A bitter wind blew through the trees and the branches groaned. The two little girls looked upwards and felt a chill rush through them. "This forest is so dark," the youngest whimpered.

"It is afraid," the elf girl said.

"Afraid?" the little one questioned.

"The trees have told me something dark is lingering," the elf girl stated.

"The trees?" her sister questioned curiously, looking confusedly and fearfully at her, suddenly uncertain around her sibling. "Sister, how can trees have spoken to you?"

The elf girl started, blinking. They couldn't. They shouldn't… Yet she heard them nonetheless… "Do you know where the kingdom of legend might be?" she asked her little sister. Perhaps her sibling remembered some detail from nanna and ada's fairy tales.

"I do not," her sister answered. "But we can seek it. If we follow the Forest River up, in time we might see signs of it. That is what I know for sure. The stories say the Forest River runs near the kingdom, if not through it. We will find elves there, and they might give us the answers we look for." The elf girl nodded her consent and the sisters turned only to scream in alarm and fear, for there at the edge of the clearing stood a figure in the trees, and though they could not see it they felt eyes boring into them. The figure made a subtle gesture and immediately four elves sprang from the trees with weapons drawn!

"Run!" the elf girl cried, seizing her sister's arm and pulling her to the horse. Nimbly the two leapt up onto it and galloped quickly into the forest to try and escape. But escape from what? Were the elves truly as dangerous as that? They did not dare test it. Instead they rode back to the safety of their home.

LotR

For some time neither dared venture into the trees again, but curiosity consumed the elf girl as each day went by. Their parents, though, would not permit or agree to another search. Not after hearing what happened on the last, and so after a time the quest was forgotten again. Until, that is, she reached forty. Forty when her sister was twenty and she yet still looked no older than fourteen or fifteen at best. It was a dark autumn night, when she remembered. She could not sleep, gazing instead out at the deep woods and the brilliant stars shining above, and part of her longed and ached so badly to walk beneath the stars into the dark forest. She didn't know what drew her to it, she didn't know why the desire was so strong. All she knew was that she felt she would die of a broken heart if she couldn't… So she did… She rose from her bed and she clothed herself in her most beautiful gown, though she didn't know why she felt inclined to. She left, barefoot, and wandered away into the forest. The stories her parents told, the legends and rumors of the dangerous beings lurking there, didn't dissuade her, not even for a moment. Fairy tales would not keep her from the path to the glade. Glade? What glade, she wondered? She didn't know. She just followed whatever it was that pulled her deeper and guided her steps. She just wanted to make it there… There was light. There was laughter. There were voices. She hurried onward. She entered the circle of light and then… Then she awoke in her room with her panicked family watching her fearfully and demanding to know why she had gone into the woods alone. She could hardly remember doing so and so gave little information as to her late night walk.

She would wander in the forest, from then on, more and more often. Always she felt something watching her. Always watching. At first it was only for hours she would be gone. In time hours became overnight. In time overnight became days and days so that her sister and parents became sick with worry and arguments would break out between them all until eventually they became accustomed to her coming and going, and peace in their home life was restored.

It was a cold winter's day when the next incident happened. Her father was out in the woods working, her mother running errands in town. Her sister was with a man from the settlement with whom she had fallen in love and was spending more and more time with. She was alone, lazily embroidering something she was hardly paying attention to. It was then that she heard a call. It wasn't a physical call, not one that any could hear, and yet it was. Otherworldly. Beautiful. Alluring. She thought it her imagination, at first, but it became louder and echoed in her mind and through her body. It frightened her. It frightened her so badly and she tried to turn away from it, to ignore it. She tried to distance herself from the spell it cast that seemed to lure her into the forest, but the harder she tried to defy it, the louder it became until she rose, again, and went into the woods. She came home two days later, a glazed look in her eyes. Her parents and sister, frantic with worry, demanded to know what had happened. She had looked at them and said, "I am not human, am I?" The moment she had said it, she collapsed unconscious, in a coma for a week. When she awoke she remembered nothing. Just laughing and singing and figures dancing around a fire gracefully. And she remembered an image of a king. At his side had been another elf, perhaps a knight—certainly some warrior—whose eyes, cold and yet somehow warm and amused, fell on her and made her forget to breathe...

LotR

She was in the glade, now, and around her danced maidens more beautiful than any she had ever seen before. They sang and laughed, gently touching her and bidding her welcome as she lay on the ground, ivy overgrowing her and holding her in place. It was a comfort, the ivy wrapped around her body. As if it was keeping her warm and safe. She rose and danced with them, and they called her Woodland daughter and lost elleth. She laughed and danced and played and with them felt so alive and so at home and so… so right… Nothing would tear her from that place and from their sight. She wanted to stay forever and ever, and there was feasting and more dancing and men, elf men, came out from the woods to the feast of the elf women, and many paired up dancing and laughing and feasting and partying. She never wanted the night to end… But as the morning came, the figures began to fade away. Though she reached for them they would not stay, looking at her sadly or pityingly before vanishing and leaving her all alone. So completely alone…

She woke up with a gasp in a cold sweat. This third time had been the last string binding her to denial, and she would be blind no longer. She remembered the box and all her questions, and she knew she had to find answers. She _had_ to! She spoke to her parents and sister of the box and of her desire, and her mother and sister at least listened compassionately to her. Her father was another story. He told her simply that some mysteries were not meant to be cleared up and asked her if knowing her origins was truly worth losing her life, for they were happy were they not? They were a family, were they not? They loved one another, didn't they? He was right, she knew he was, but her heart desired to know the truth. Her heart desired to know what and who she was and where she had come from. Her father knew her desire and though he did not agree with it, he loved her and so did not hinder her when she went to walk in the forest and think and try to unravel the mystery. That was when her journey truly started.

LotR

Whenever she was in the forest, now, low whispers came to her, encouraging her to stay in the woods for longer and longer. Where at first she had resisted them, she had soon listened. She could not escape the otherworldly call that beckoned her into the Greenwood so often. When hours became overnight and night became days, she hardly realized the differences, and in the woods she felt at peace. The voice would say, 'Just a little longer. Seek a little harder. You will find what you are looking for'. Sometimes she almost believed she would. She would see dancing figures in her memory. She would hear the giggling of elves and the singing. She would see, in the nights, their fairy circles at a distance but had not then dared go near them since the dream… And she would see a figure watching her from the shadows of the forest, mysterious and alone…

As time passed and she found no hint of her past—at least not of the sort she had been searching for—she had returned home and had determined to stay there for a time with her family and try and forget. She never did, but the dreams had stopped coming, and the voices had stopped whispering, and she dared think it was over and that finally she could move on with life instead of forever chasing shadows she could not find or could not reach when she found them… She was wrong…

She dreamed one night, some years later when her sister was twenty-five and engaged. She, of course, still looked about 16 or 17. She dreamed of a great battle with a powerful being. In her dream she saw an elf kneeling next to the body of another with head bowed but no tears falling. Though there were no tears, she could feel and sense in her heart the pain and anguish ripping through the ellon. The dead one… It was the king from the first dream she had had when she was smaller! The king she had seen seated upon a throne. Her heart broke to see the once proud ruler laying broken on a battlefield. What was the younger elf at his side to him, she wondered...? And then she saw the younger elf as the dreamscape changed, and he sat upon the throne where the king had once been seated. So it was the dead king's son, and he was being crowned king of the elves, sitting tall and proud, yet still his grief she felt in her heart and soul as if she herself were bound to him, and his agony was plain to her and to his subjects.

The forest became dark, slowly at first but then speeding up. What in this dream was in the past, what was in the present, and what was yet to come, she wondered? Suddenly the image of the king's heir stood before her, back turned to her, and she realized in that moment who the figure seen long ago in the forest by her and her sister had been. The Elvenking began to turn his head, and for some reason dread seized her heart. She didn't want to see his face. She didn't want to be here! He… he frightened her… His gaze fell on her, the flesh on his face melted away, and she wanted to scream in terror and fall to her knees before him, bowing low to the ground and begging his mercy though she knew not why she would need to. Was it terror though, she wondered? Was it terror or something… more…? Because as much as she wanted to scream, she felt the irresistible urge to go to him and take his hands in hers. To kiss them tenderly and gaze into his eyes forever. His hand would slip behind her head and his lips gently press against her own in such deep love…

She woke up with the feel of his lips still against hers and the taste of honey and spiced wine in her mouth. She caught her breath, sitting bolt upright in bed and looking out the window wide-eyed. Something was out there. She leapt to her feet, gathering her robe around her and looking out the window. She saw nothing, but leaves swirled in a spiral as if something had been near. Or as if something was asking the wind to blow the leaves in such a pattern. In the darkness the unseen ghost drew her, and without hardly knowing it she left her house and walked into the woods, following the mysterious call she heard only in her mind and not in the waking world.

LotR

She came to a river, but not the Forest River. This one's waters were black, and a deep power was upon it. The Enchanted River, she knew. Its swirling waters rushed along, the sound lulling, the sight drawing… And then she heard a song being sung, low, mournful. She looked up the stream and there she saw the young elf of her dream, kneeling by the water and drawing a hand gently through it as if pondering whether to throw himself into the river or live on suffering some unimaginable pain that she did not understand or know fully beyond what she had felt in her dream. Was this perhaps still that dream, or was the figure really there?

"Do you hear me, Erl-King?" she called out to him gently. His song paused, and she knew he had. "Can you tell me who and what I am?" she questioned, not caring if this was a dream or reality. He said nothing, nor did he move. "Long have I sought your kind, for with you lies the key to my past. I have sought you but have not found you… Or dared go near enough to…" He neither moved nor spoke at all. "Grieving King, lord of a tortured land, frightened ellon, speak to me. Please," she cooed. There was still no reaction. She felt tears in her eyes but did not know why. Bowing her head she turned and began walking swiftly back towards her home.

"Maiden of a Black and dying Wood, what question have you for me?" he questioned suddenly. She paused, and for a moment she was too terrified to dare go back. She knew the ways of elves. They did nothing from the goodness of their hearts without a cost. She approached him cautiously, drawing out the box long ago given to her. "Lady of Eryn Galen, think carefully afore you approach the monster of the forest." She paused a long moment. "The monster who drowns the unwary in the river, or takes them prisoner back to his stronghold. The elf king who strikes terror into the hearts of mortal kind and steals away little children in the night or lures love struck maidens to their deaths."

She stayed still. Soon, though, she approached boldly, unafraid. "What befalls me befalls me," she answered as she neared. He didn't move or look up. That in itself terrified her more than anything else. She felt as though this was a trap, and it unsettled her greatly. She came next to his form and paused once more before kneeling at his side and laying the box down. He stirred slightly, glancing over at it, and took it into his hand, rising to his full height. A shiver raced through her, and part of her told her to remain kneeling and bow her head, yet another part wanted to rise. Rise she did, to her full height, and unafraid she looked up at him though he would not face her still, instead examining the box.

"You know there will be a price for my help," he said. She was silent. "Fear you not what it will be?" he questioned.

"I have heard tales. Dwarves, casting spells upon maidens and coming down from the mountains and sleeping with them while they cannot resist. I have heard of elves, casting spells of love upon humans and luring them to rivers to drown them, or molesting them. I understand the risk I take in dealing with the Fae."

"Not all things horrible rest solely on base urges to consume and possess, in lust and love, unwitting maids," he answered. He cast a sidelong gaze at her, meeting her eyes. She felt suddenly paralyzed, unable to move. Perhaps she was. "I know what you are," he said, reaching out and brushing her hair behind her ear. She swallowed but refused to show fear. He tilted his head, examining her ears. Always sewn up from birth for a reason her parents had never spoken of. For a moment dark anger reflected in the elf king's eyes before disappearing once more. "You will lose something today," he said. He drew a sword and dread took hold of her, yet she couldn't move. "You will lose your humanity." He swung. She tried to scream, but no sound came. The sword sliced the stitches on her ears neatly, in the process cutting them open. They began to bleed, she felt it warm, running down her face. He looked down at the box, next, and uttered some words in a language she didn't understand but that seemed familiar to her. The box glowed and clicked, unlocked now but not open. "Open it not until you have come to maturity five years hence. A curse upon you should you disobey my command," he said, handing the box back to her. He disappeared into the forest silently. Not until he was long gone did his spell end and she was free to move.

She spoke of none of what had transpired to her family, and always wore her hair over her ears now lest her father see what had been done to her and desire vengeance against the elves for her injury, though she hardly saw what the fuss would be about… Of course, since that night she hadn't dared to check what the damage had been either. A few months passed by in relative peace and quiet, and she did not think on the elf king again, or dream of him. Or so she thought… But whenever she wandered the woods she could not help but feel something…

LotR

It was the night after her sister's wedding. Her parents were gone again, saying their final goodbyes before their daughter moved in with her husband. She had said her farewells to her sibling, and so she remained in their home. Dreams again visited her. The elfin king overseeing the feasts of his people, his dancing among them gracefully, bathed in the fire's glow. And always his eyes and his voice would find their way into her heart and mind. Eyes as blue and sometimes grey as a sea or a coming storm, his hair shining like spun gold in the moonlight, his robes and cape billowing around him and throwing the leaves into the air to spin around his figure. Every move he made was grace, every flash of lighting or fire in his eyes paralyzing. He was born and bred a king and knight.

She dared not sleep anymore that night as she sat up sewing a gown. Her heart ached, but not for reasons familiar to her and that made her feel so, so scared. It ached for a creature she had seen once, not counting all the times she had dreamt of him. It ached for his touch and his embrace. It ached to hear his voice once again…

…

 _My gown away, my gown away,_

 _And over the hills and far away;_

 _And far away to Norway,_

 _My gown shall not be blown away._

…

She heard suddenly, not far in the distance, the sound of a horn being blown. It sounded not like a musical horn, nor like a battle horn. It seemed to her enchanted in some way, and the aching pulled at her heart again. She dared look out the window. There he was, sitting upon a hill and blowing the enchanted horn so haunting… And yet the sound was not as haunting as the elf king in his mysterious beauty.

…

 _The elfin knight sits on yonder hill,_

 _Ba, ba, ba, Lillie ba;_

 _He blows his horn both loud and shrill,_

 _The wind hath blown my gown away._

 _He blows it east, he blows it west,_

 _He blows it where he liketh best,_

 _"I wish that horn were in my chest,_

 _Yes, and the knight in my arms to nest."_

…

A sudden thought. A sudden wish unbidden. She wished that he was with her in her home. She wished he was her husband, that all that belonged to him was with her, that in her arms he would spend the night. She did not know she had voiced the thought out loud until suddenly he was there before her. She jumped, startled, and looked up at him in awe. He was in her home, sitting by her side on the edge of her bed. "Thou art over young a maid to be married to me; many an age younger than I," he said to her. "It would be ill upon you, maiden, for you are hardly more than a child."

"I have a sister younger than me, and she was married yesterday," she protested. "She is twenty-five, and here I am five years shy of fifty years of age!"

He smirked more in amusement than anything else as if he knew she did not understand something she sensed she should but didn't. "If you would be married to me, you must first do me a courtesy," he answered. "Should you succeed, you will be my wife."

…

 _She had no sooner these words said,_

 _Then the knight came unto her bed._

 _"Thou art o'er young a maid," quoth he,_

 _"Married with me that thou wouldst be."_

 _"I have a sister, younger than me,_

 _And she was married yestereve."_

 _"Married with me if thou wouldst be,_

 _A courtesy thou must do to me._

…

She almost thought this to be another dream, unsure if he was really there or just an illusion. "Give me your tasks," she said.

He smiled mysteriously, confident he would be victorious in this game. "You must make a shirt for me without any cut or seam. You must shape it with a knife sheerless, and sew it with a needless thread. When you have finished, I will make you my wife."

She nodded slowly, taking the tasks in and committing them to memory. Impossible tasks, she knew, but he was not the only one who could play that game. Her days of trickery in her childhood returned to her and she knew she had him. "Afore I do you that courtesy, elfin knight, you must do one for me."

"Name it and I shall do it," he promised, hand on his chest earnestly as he bowed to her.

"Do I have your word?" she questioned.

"I give it to you," he confirmed. He saw no threat in this youngling… And then she smirked, and her smirk was cold and wicked and cruel. His smile fell. He knew in that moment he had wandered into a trap.

"I have an acre of good ley-land down by the Forest River. Till it with your enchanted horn and sew it all with colonels of a peppercorn, only one. Harrow it all with a thorn and have it done by morning's light. Shear it with your knife and do not lose one stack of it for your life. Stack it in a mouse's hole and thrash it in the sole of your boots. Bring it then over the sea for me, fair and clean and dry. When that is done, you may have your shirt," she cooed innocently.

The elf king's expression was one of wonder, taken aback by the words of the maiden. He thought to back out of it, but when the Fair Folk made a vow they kept it down to the letter, and though he wanted to withdraw the promise he knew he could not. He chuckled, then, low and deep. "You have outwitted the elven king," he said in amusement to her. "Very well, I will not withdraw from my promise to you though soon you may grow to regret it; for maiden, this is no dream, and the vow of the fae will stand. Mark me well, you will be the mother of my children and my wife in time. When you do not expect, I will return, and you will be my elfin queen." She may have won this battle, but the war would be his.

"Until that time my honor I will keep. Let the elf king do what he will," she answered in agreement. He bowed his head to her and rose, leaving her home not once taking his eyes away from her. Leaving as if some apparition.

 _…_

 _"It's you must make a shirt for me,_

 _Without any cut or seam," quoth he._

 _"And you must shape it knife, sheerless,_

 _And also sew it needle, threadless."_

 _"If that piece of courtesy I do to thee,_

 _Another thou must do to me._

 _I have an acre of good ley-land,_

 _Which lyeth low by yon sea strand._

 _It's you must till it with you touting horn,_

 _And you must sew it with one peppercorn._

 _And you must harrow it with a thorn,_

 _And have your work done ere the morn._

 _And you must sheer it with your knife,_

 _And not lose a stack of it for your life._

 _And you must stack it in a mouse hole,_

 _And you must thrash it in your shoe sole._

 _And you must put it in the palm of your hand,_

 _And also sack it in your glove._

 _And thou must bring it over the sea,_

 _Fair and clean and dry to me._

 _And when that you have done your work,_

 _Come back to me and you'll get your shirt."_

 _"I'll not quit my gown for my life,_

 _It lucks my seven children and my wife."_

 _"My maidenhood I'll then keep still,_

 _Let the elfin knight do what he will."_

Years Later

At fifty she came to her full stature, and she had the appearance of an elf fully grown, say for the ears which e'er concealed what she was. Long had she hidden them and not looked at them since the blade of the elf king had severed the stitches. At this time her parents were well into their seventies and were weakening rapidly, and this frightened her. When death came to her mother in her eighties, she felt lost and mourned deeply. Her father told her, then, that soon he would die as well and that it was time for her now to find out who and what she was, because no longer could it be put off. "When I have died, you must go into the Greenwood and seek them, but always return home before nightfall, for the forest becomes dangerous then. You will find your past and the answers you seek, my darling. I promise you that you will." She held her father tightly, weeping into his arms, and nodded her consent.

Her father died at ninety-two, and she and her sister—the latter now in her fifties—brought his body to the settlement to be tended and buried with their mother. Her sister and her husband determined to stay with her for some time in the old house, until the mourning peiod was passed. There was another dream, that night. She saw in the forest, as she looked out the window, the elf king riding upon the back of a great elk and beckoning for her to come. She rose from her bed and went to him as if under a spell, and he took her hand in his and pulled her up onto the back of the mount. They rode through the constantly changing forest, and branches waved in the wind, evil things heard in the dark, but the illusions of the elfin king kept them confused and none could find the couple galloping through the forest at a breakneck pace.

There were the gates of the hidden kingdom in the woods, and there he dismounted and lifted her from the back of the elk, guiding her gently into his grand halls. She was passed off to elf-maids, servants in the palace, and he told them to bathe her and clothe her in a gown of such a splendid design she would now have known such garments could exist. He commanded that a feast be made ready and he left. The elf-maids took her into a grand chamber and there bathed her and clothed her in accordance to the king's order, and they made her ready as if she were a bride being adorned for a wedding. They pulled back her hair and she saw, then, for the first time in years, her ears. They were the ears of an elf! Her heart dropped into her stomach, her lips parting. This was what she was. This was what her parents had been. This is why she had not aged like any others! This… this was why her sister grew older looking by the year while she remained unchanged by time… She could not claim surprise, perhaps part of her had always known, but to see it now presented to her…

The scene of her dream changed, and she was walking towards the throne of her king, bold and proud. No other elven maid present could compare to her beauty. He waited patiently for her to come, his eyes brightening to see her. Her entourage fell away until she alone approached the king. She knelt before him, bowing her head low. He offered his hand to her and only then did she lift her gaze to meet his and take his hand in hers. He drew her to her feet and held her hands in his. A ceremony was being given, a language she did not understand and then… then suddenly did… Wedding vows. He spoke his words, and she her own. Of her own accord she called him her husband and gave herself to him in marriage.

Again the scene changed. A fairy circle around which all the elves danced and sang and feasted, she among them and loving every moment of it while he watched silently from his seat at the head of the table until she went to him and pulled him into the dance, beaming with excitement and happiness. Here she felt at home. Here she felt so, so right… He danced with her keeping pace, and for the first time in all of her dreams and encounters with him, she saw happiness. She saw pain slipping away from his eyes and becoming joy and… and love… And she knew this was what he had once been, long before the loss of his father, long before pain began to permeate into his life even prior to that from every angle in loss of kin, home, mother, and all. She saw him and she loved him more than ever before. Wait. She had loved him before?

The scene again had warped. He stood at the end of a long pathway in the palace, gazing back at her. She knew not whether to follow or leave. The choice was open to her. In one direction was freedom into the forest, freedom to return home. In the other there was him, her husband, her king. She made no move. He bowed his head to her and turned, walking away with train billowing behind him, and it seemed as though everything moved in slow motion. As he left pain filled her and desire, and though her path to freedom was there, she did not take it. She followed him, but he appeared and disappeared like some apparition or ghost until suddenly she was lost and without any sense of where to go… Until two grand doors stood before her… She stopped. They were the entrance to his chambers, and for the first time she hesitated. Finally, though, she pushed them open. He stood at the balcony, a glass of wine in his hand. He inclined his head towards her silently as she shut the doors behind her and locked them. He tilted his head ever so slightly and sipped his wine until it was gone, turning back to the balcony and looking out over his forest.

She didn't know what he expected. She didn't know what she did either. She stood there still… And then she let her gown slip down her arms and pool at her feet. He turned ever so slightly, vaguely interested. The air was cold on her skin, but in a good way, and subtly she shivered. He placed down his empty glass and entered his bedchamber. His arm went around her waist and he drew her near. For a long moment he gazed down into her eyes. His hand went behind her head and softly, tenderly, he kissed her. His mouth tasted like honey and spiced wine, and she closed her eyes, parting her lips further, silently begging more. He obliged her, deepening the kiss until her head was spinning. He drew back, gently nuzzling her nose with his. "Lay down," he whispered to her. "Wait a little longer. Hold off some years more. I will be with you soon." She knew not what his words meant, but when he pulled away she wanted to hold him back. Whatever this 'waiting' meant, she did not want it. Nonetheless she bowed her head to him and climbed into his bed. She gazed up at the canopy, eyes open. She waited… He did not come…

She awakened to find herself in bed. Her head spun in a dizzying array of emotions. She was so confused, so afraid. She was naked, she realized, and terror seized her. She had gone to bed clothed! She jolted fully awake with a gasp, pale and shivering. What was real and what was a dream, anymore? She could no longer tell the difference, and it frightened her deeply. The box! She leapt from bed. Now she had come of age to open it. She had waited the allotted time the Erl-King gave. She would wait no longer. She ran to the box and threw it open. She gasped, covering her mouth. Inside were the pictures of an elf man and woman. In their arms was a baby. Her! Written beneath was the name she had been given. Like that her questions were answered yet she felt only fear and alarm. She felt lost. She leapt from her bed and raced to a mirror, throwing back her hair. Her eyes widened in shock and fear. Her ears were not the ears of a mortal. They were the ears of an elf! Her sister found her there, numbly looking into the mirror, and horror and shock were in her as well, for now she knew what her sibling was. Would her little sister reject her, the elf maid wondered? …No. She didn't care. Human or elf her sister loved her and would all her life which now they both knew she would lose long before the eldest. The elf maid wept silently that night for everything she had learned and everything she had lost and yet would.

Decades Later

Sixty years came and went. Her sister was elderly now, in her nineties, and a widow, living with her for the last years of her own life. At this time the elf maid had many a suitor clambering for her hand desperately, for there was no one more beautiful in all of Middle Earth that any knew of say for the rumored Lady of the Golden Wood. They had desired her for some time, but none she favored say for a single one. He was a wanderer who came to the settlement only once every month, and curiosity and desire for him had grown in her. The elf king had been a dream, she had long ago determined as much. She had had no more dreams, she had felt no otherworldly calls drawing her into the forest more so than she usually was want to go. Eyes no longer watched and she was alone. The Elf King was a dream. He had to be.

Her sister died not long after. The day she brought her sibling's body to the village to be buried, he was in the bazaar, and she told him of the loss of her family though she offered little detail. Pity was in his eyes for her, all of his being oozing sympathy. She fell to tears and he held her, and a bond was formed between the mortal man and the elf-maid, though he knew not what she was yet. As time passed love grew between them, powerful and passionate, and more and more often he would return until finally he came to her home in the forest directly and there asked her hand in marriage. In glee she accepted him, and shortly after the two were wed. For the first time, since her family's death, happiness consumed her, and for a while she cared no longer about what she was. She cared only about her mortal husband… And yet she would not lie down with him… Always she found an excuse not to. She didn't know why she didn't want to lay with him, but the idea of it felt… wrong… He, though hurt, accepted it. In time she would be ready, he determined. In time she would lie with him and their marriage would finally be consummated.

When he left on his journeys or wanderings—for he was a traveller—she would go on her own way and wander in the woods as she once had before her life came crashing down around her. She would not deny she missed it, the beauty of the woods. Here she could be alone with her thoughts. She would lie with him when he returned, she determined. She loved him. She would not torment him or her like this any longer. He had been so patient, so good. She would lie with him and her body would be his… But she felt afraid to. She felt a sense of disapproval and guilt crushing down all around her. She didn't know what to do anymore. She wanted this. She needed this… And yet whenever she tried to picture herself in bed with her husband, it was the elf king of the dreamscape that she saw, not the mortal man of reality.

The woods were sick, all now could see it. There was no more denying, and Greenwood had become Mirkwood, the forest a dark and dangerous place to live. Yet she refused to be moved from it, and so her husband humored her whim. Stories of an elfin king ran rampant and wild, a being of terror and horror, a malicious enemy and on occasion a powerful friend. Some had him wicked, some had him good, some had him whichever way he was want to be. Elves were blamed for the state of Mirkwood now, above all its king, for the men in the settlements could think of no other reason it could have become so dark. It was said the old elf king had been killed centuries ago. Some claimed by his son's hand. His heir, in turn, was wicked where his father was not, and his heir had sickened the forest in recent times so that it became dark. She knew not what to believe, any longer. He was a dream. She kept reminding herself he was a dream. It was all a dream. She needed to come back to reality.

Her husband was away and had been for some time, seeking work more than travelling this time. They were in financial straits and so he had left to find their fortune, leaving her alone in her home and alone to her thoughts. Always those thoughts went to the elf king. He was a dream, she knew he was. How many times had she told herself as much? Her husband was the mortal man, and she loved him with all her heart. How foolish to think such a fantasy, elf king's and spells and fairy circles, would become her reality. Her husband was here, and he was real. He was due to return tomorrow. That same night she would lie with him and they would be one… And yet as she drifted away into sleep such crushing guilt swept over her…

LotR

She opened her eyes. She was in the palace of the elf king. She caught her breath. The dreams again? Why must they return and torment her so, why?! She felt like screaming and tearing her hair. She didn't like this! She didn't like not knowing what was real and what was the dreamscape. It terrified her so, so much. She shook in fear and sobbed before quickly getting a grip and straightening up, looking around. She rose carefully from the bed on which she lay and began to wander. Wander through the kingdom, through the halls, through a place she had thought was only legend, once. Everything felt real and she swore it could not be mistaken for false… Yet it had to be… It had to be a lie, an illusion, something. This could not be real.

…And then he was there… He stood before her tall and regal. His lips turned up in a gentle smile, eyes softening and letting in the emotion he so tried to hide away when alone and brooding. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and she wanted to fall into his arms and become lost in his embrace. Her lips slowly parted and she reached out for his face, fingertips brushing a cheek. Softly she stroked it, trying to comprehend if this was a dream or not. "You are here…" she whispered.

"I have ever been and ever will be," he answered, gently covering her hand with his. She gasped and threw herself into him, resting her head on his chest and softly weeping, both mourning and celebrating. Gently his fingers stroked her soft hair. She leaned back her head and kissed him tenderly, lovingly. He swayed her softly in his arms, and she knew not whether this was a dream or not. She knew only she did not want to wake up if it was a dream. She hoped it would last forever.

"Thranduil…" she breathed, and she did not know how or when she had learned his name, but it was there on her tongue natural and smooth as if she had known it since the beginning. He whispered her name into her hair, the first one to ever use it, and she was his.

LotR

The world seemed to move in slow motion. She fell back onto his large and soft bed. He leaned over her and kissed her, unclasping his train and casting it to the side. He drew back, removing his tunic. Her fingers played up and down his abdomen gently. Tenderly his hand traced her nude body, feeling every curve and relishing in it. He bent, kissing her neck gently. She shivered. He was undressed now, she noted, but it was only a fleeting thought. Neither were in a rush, and she was glad for it. His hair was like silk, falling through her fingers and over her chest, warm and inviting. Her skin was soft and supple beneath his fingers and he met her eyes. They nuzzled softly. He kissed her once more and drew the blankets up over them, concealing them from sight.

He moved against her rhythmically, certain, unafraid. It was not long before she had become accustomed to the feel of him inside of her and had forgotten the initial discomfort in wake of the bliss and pleasure. She felt his body's every move and his every breath was warm against her skin and lips. She arched up under him giving a soft moan of pleasure, tightening her hold on him and kissing him adoringly, trying something that had him swoon for a moment before recovering and returning the favor swiftly and surely. She could be in his arms for eternity, she decided…

LotR

Eternity wasn't to be. She woke up the next morning and he was gone. She was alone in her home, and tears were on her cheeks. She lay still a long moment before reaching up with the tips of her fingers and wiping them away. She rose silently, listless, and got dressed. A dream. Always only a dream…

Her mortal husband came home, that night, and she told him to stay with her for a time, making him promise he would not go for a while. Perhaps then the dreams would leave her for good. This time they lay together in passion and love, and she was content… Except for a dull aching in the recesses of her heart for the husband of the dreams…

Some Years Later

"Stay with me," he whispered to her. Thranduil. His voice in her dreams, his figure seated next to her on her bedside stroking her hair.

"You are a dream…" she whispered in response as her husband slept by her side.

He bent, kissing her. "I am no dream," he murmured into her hair.

"And yet when I awaken I am here, and you are gone," she answered.

"Forsake your mortal husband, and when next you awake it will be my side you lay at," he answered.

Pain came to her eyes. "I cannot… I love him…"

"Am I nothing to you?" Thranduil questioned.

"You are everything to me," she answered.

"Let me take you from this place," he said to her.

Gently she cupped his cheek, gazing at it. After a moment his illusion was shattered with her touch, and she saw beneath the Glamor the scar adorning his face. Perhaps even down his neck and body, should he ever lose control of the illusion completely. "You will have me in time," she promised. He kissed her hand softly. She shivered and closed her eyes. When she opened them he would be gone. Sure enough, when they opened he was not there…

LotR

She told her husband, on his waking, nothing of what had transpired. She only begged him not to go, begged him to stay and never leave again. She knew that the moment he did, she would be fair game to the elf king's plans, whatever they may be. He tried to learn why, but she would not tell him… Perhaps part of her didn't want to… He stayed longer than usual, for he had long been suspicious of what was happening with her and dreaded that she would be lost to him forever very soon, but soon he had no choice but to leave once more. Leave he did, and she was alone and afraid. Was afraid the proper word to use, she wondered? Part of her doubted it.

She never told him of that dream. Perhaps she should have. Maybe then she wouldn't be here now, her body meshing with the body of the elvenking as they lay in each other's arms. Maybe then she would not know that she would not be let free of the elf king this time. When, she wondered, had she forgotten how truly powerful and truly dangerous he was? Why had she disillusioned herself into believing he was no more than a dream? She should have known better! Now it was too late. Not she was trapped in his domain forever more, never to return.

She became pregnant by him, by the elf king. How many years had she been missing from her home, she wondered? Her husband must be worried sick. He would be searching for her so frantically… She missed him… She loved him… She wanted to return to him and yet she wanted to stay here. She wanted to be the elvenqueen. She desired it. More than she desired it, she desired him. Thranduil Oropherion… But could he not have waited a little longer at least…?

LotR

He watched her silently from the shadows as she stood on the balcony, overlooking the forest. She wanted to go home. She wanted to live out the rest of her husband's days at his side and she wanted to be his wife. He was not ageless. Thranduil was. He knew her heart, he knew her conflict, and it pained him. He approached her from behind quietly and rested his hands on her shoulders, watching out over the forest with her. "Does he search?" she questioned.

"Frantically," he confirmed.

She bowed her head low. "I want to be with him…" she whispered.

"For love or duty?" Thranduil bitterly questioned.

"For love," she answered, opening her eyes once more. Thranduil was silent. "Do not think I do not love you," she said to him. He remained quiet but bowed his head with a sigh.

"Go," he said. "What is fifty years to an elf?"

"I am pregnant," she said.

He tensed up and his shoulders sagged. "I know," he answered. "Did you not want a family with him and he with you?"

"Thranduil…" she began, eyes widening as she caught on to what he was saying.

"Let him have the child, the changeling," Thranduil stated darkly. "Let him have the illusion." The child would not grow at a normal rate but her mortal would need to believe it did. It would be his greatest illusion to date, stronger even than the forest and its bending and turning. He would accomplish it. It would be with difficulty, it would exhaust him, but he could accomplish it. For her sake he would. He had to. "When he is dead, then the babe will know its true father."

"It will be matured by then," she said, arguing. "I will not take it from you!"

He squeezed her hand gently. "You will not… But you must trust me. Trust in my power," he said.

"Even you have your limit," she answered. He smirked wryly. If only she knew how right she was. He was far from the most powerful. "Find Radagast," he whispered into her ear, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. "He is a wizard, and favors are owed to me from him, in a sense. Take this letter. Fly swiftly, my love. Time will bring us together again, this I promise."

Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Thank you," she said. He bowed to her and left. After the visit to Radagast, she returned to the palace. When she woke up, she was in her mortal husband's arms in the forest, and he was weeping over her, clutching her close and saying over and over again how much he loved her. She returned his love just as desperately, reassuring and soothing him.

LotR

Another dream never came, nor did the feeling of anything watching her ever return to her again for as long as her mortal husband lived. When he died, her world ended, and grief overtook her to know that she would never see him again. But they had had the family they had wanted together. He had been a good father to their daughter… her daughter, rather… Her daughter who in illusion aged at a human rate, who in reality aged as an elf and had known her true father from the start, Thranduil coming whenever it was that the mortal was gone and taking his daughter back without his queen's knowledge. Radagast, for his part, had held his end of the bargain up and then some. For all she knew, the elf king was a dream and she did not think of him again. A trick of Thranduil's, she would learn later—along with learning they were now in possession of a rather unique potion that would in future prove handy to her—so that she could enjoy her life with the mortal… And she did…

Their life had been happy for their love for each other, mortal and elf. When he was lost, so was her hope, and she felt so, so alone… She had learned much of elves since discovering what she was, and had learned much of the Sindarin and Silvan languages from the wizard Radagast, the Istari dwelling in Mirkwood forest. Mainly Silvan, for she knew that was what she was, now. A Silvan elf by blood, born in Greenwood. It all ceased to matter to her when her husband died. Her hope was gone, and she lay down, closing her eyes and hoping never to awaken again. Elves could die of grief, she knew now. Die she would… And then the dreams came again…

His voice called to her. Not the voice of her mortal, but the voice of the elf king. He spoke her name… Then she was fleeing from him, and he was pursuing. She didn't know where she was or what this meant, but she was fleeing from him desperately in terror. Was it terror? He pursued her. He stayed on her heels though she could not see him. She fell to the ground, tripping over a root, and looked back at him, shouting a curse in Silvan. He stood above her, cold and unmoved. "What is your name, elf-maid?" he questioned.

"A Mystery," she answered defiantly. He smirked and vanished.

She woke up with a jolt and looked out the window of her bedroom… Except she wasn't in her bedroom. She was in the forest where she had fallen in the dream, and riding upon a large elk sat the Great Elvenking, their daughter at his side grinning excitedly and eagerly at her mother. It had not been a dream. How much more had not been a dream, she wondered? He held out his hand to her. She didn't move to take it. She wanted to be left alone in her grief… But she was drawn to him, and for her daughter's sake she could not fall to grief. She rose, taking his hand. The moment they touched, she remembered it all. She remembered all that was a dream, all that wasn't, and she realized with a jolt that he was her husband now, and she his wife. She burst into laughter through her tears and embraced her husband lovingly, kissing him and then their daughter.

"The waiting is done," he whispered into her ear. "Now you are the Elvenqueen. Now you are my bride."


	4. Of Wisdom and Guile

**The Elf King**

(A/N: Sorry about the wait. Been really busy with courses et al. And I kind of lost my motivation for a while. Still don't have a lot of it, but I really wanted to get this one up. It seems the 'less wise more dangerous' term implies to most that the elves of Mirkwood are not as good as those of the Noldor et al. I prefer looking a bit deeper into it than that. That's what this oneshot kind of tries to get across. No so much that 'less wise and more dangerous' is a bad thing, but that it just means their strengths are a little deeper and subtler than that. More dangerous, after all.)

Of Wisdom and Guile

"Ada, ada!" little Legolas cried out, racing towards his father's throne in tears. Thranduil tilted his head ever so slightly as the little elfling sprang up into his lap and threw his arms around him, sobbing. Thranduil blinked then softly placed a hand on the small of his child's back, gently rubbing it.

"Little Leaf, what troubles you so?" he questioned his son in a murmur, gently tipping Legolas's chin up.

"Th-the other-other little elflings vist-visiting from-from Lorien were-were saying such mean things about you, Ada," Legolas said, body shaking with emotion. "And-and I tried to defend you but-but I couldn't because I do not know, ada, I don't!"

"Do not know what, tithen-las?" Thranduil cooed gently.

"If-if they speak truth or not," Legolas said, hanging his head.

"What mean things have they said, little Greeenleaf?" Thranduil coaxed patiently, softly thumbing away the tears on Legolas's cheeks. He would do this for the others once upon a time… When they had still been there…

"They say you are a coward, Ada. They say you are afraid of the world and what lies beyond the forests. They say that most of all you are afraid of the Lady of Lorien and dare not go near her for terror of what she can do. They say why else would you not let her into Mirkwood? They say she can read your mind and that that frightens you more than anything else," Legolas answered. "They say she could be queen and overthrow you like-like Luthien helped Beren overthrow their enemies and that you could not hope to stand to her and that is why you are a coward."

LotR

Thranduil listened to his son's explanation, vague amusement in his eyes. Gently he stroked his little one's flowing hair. "I do not fear the world, Legolas. Nor do I fear what lies beyond the forest. I have seen it. Many times. I do not _trust_ the world, penneth, and from it I hide because though I do not fear it, I fear what it can do to our people. I fear losing you more than anything else. I fear watching my subjects suffer and die or become enslaved. For that reason I avoid the world because here in this forest such dangers are present enough, and I will not spread my diminishing people any thinner. Not only for the sake of the kingdom, but for the sakes of the subjects within as well. And for your sake."

"Wh-what of the L-Lady of the Golden Wood?" Legolas questioned, wiping his eyes though he felt a little bit better. "What can I say to them then, Ada?"

A mysterious smirk pulled at the corner of Thranduil's lips, his eyes becoming distant and far away as he turned his head in the general direction of Lorien. "You will tell them, tithen-pen, that there is a reason why the white lady does not step inside the boundaries of my kingdom. And it is not because I have forbade it. If that were so, Lord Celeborn would not be allowed entry either."

"Why does she not come, Ada?" Legolas questioned, burning with interest.

Thranduil turned his head back to his son. "It is because _she_ is frightened of _me_ ," he answered.

"But they have said she is more powerful than you," Legolas protested.

"They are correct, little one. She is more powerful than I," Thranduil admitted.

"They say she can read minds, even yours," Legolas said.

"They are correct also in that," Thranduil answered.

"Then why should she be frightened of you?" Legolas questioned, eyes wide in curiosity.

Thranduil smirked. "Because she has seen all that I am capable of, and she knows that though she is so, so powerful, she does not believe she could stand," he said.

"I do not understand, Ada," Legolas said in confusion.

"Nor will you ever fully understand, Little Leaf, for that is between she and I," Thranduil answered.

"Tell me, ada, please!" Legolas begged.

Thranduil softly nuzzled his son's nose with his before drawing back. "I will endeavor to explain to you what I can," he said. When all was said and done, though, it was and would always remain an unspoken understanding between him and her; a chess match or some other sort of game between them. "Bring the other elflings here, tithen-las, and I will tell them the words you will remember and one day say if challenged in such a way again," he said. Legolas sniffed, blinking up at his ada with wide eyes, curiosity burning him. He nodded and climbed off of ada's lap, scampering away to fetch the visiting elflings from Lorien, who had come with Lord Celeborn on his journey here to meet with Thranduil. He was dying to know what story his ada would tell them.

LotR

"Tell them about the mind reading, ada," Legolas pled when he returned with the other elflings, all of which looked nervous. "Tell them why you do not fear it."

Thranduil scanned the young ones. "Sit, little ones," he commanded. "Sit, and I will give you a task." The elflings uneasily sat along with Legolas. Thranduil scanned them silently, ensuring they were listening well. "When you return to Lorien, you will find the Lady Galadriel, and you will say to her, 'My lady and queen, why do you ne'er voyage into the realm of King Thranduil? Are you not more powerful and wise than he? Can you not enter his mind and know his every thought and plan?'" The little ones exchanged curious looks then parroted the question back to him, ensuring they remembered the words. "Very good… And I will tell you, now, exactly what she will say to you when you question her."

The eyes of the children widened. "Can you too read minds, ada?!" Legolas exclaimed in wonder.

"I do not have to, little Greenleaf," Thranduil responded, though he did not give his son an answer as to whether he could or couldn't, leaving Legolas and the other elflings to marvel and wonder. "I do not have to read her mind to know her thoughts."

"Ada!" Legolas protested. He did not like ada dancing around his questions like this. It confused him and made him burn with curiosity and desire to know. Thranduil, though, would say nothing more to his son of the matter.

"You will ask her the question I have given you to ask, and she will answer…" Thranduil began.

LotR

"Because I have looked inside of his mind once before… Never again will I venture into it," Galadriel answered, her closed eyes opening as she took in the question the elflings had asked. At least, she would not enter it for any other reason than to communicate with him. "There were things I saw within the recesses of his mind… Things that even _I_ could not bear…" she murmured. "And he found me there, gazing silent and stricken with shock."

"How could he find you in his mind?" one elfling questioned.

Galadriel blinked at the little one but did not answer immediately. Soon, however, she replied, "Because his mind is an unnavigable maze through which he leads you and guides you and tricks you to where he wishes you to be. He gives no choice, he shows you only the path he wishes for you to follow… And follow I did… He found me, and there he spoke to me…

I stood still, expressionless, and I felt and saw within me everything. I found my way through his mind, through the mazes and riddles and every barrier he set before me, though the task was daunting; and even still I felt, as I stood there, as if he had only been toying with me. Leading me to where he desired me to go. It was so tiring… My head ached with the effort to find my way to where I believed I wished to be, and all of my effort was only rewarded by what lay before my eyes in that place in his mind and heart. Death. Carnage. Despair… I saw a dragon approaching. I felt the fire hot against my skin, agonizing, and yet I knew the pain I felt was not half of what it had truly been. A silent tear slipped down my cheek as I saw the death and smelled the blood, as I witnessed Doriath tumble and his mother slaughtered…

I closed my eyes tightly when upon the Dead Marshes Oropher fell. Butchered. Body left to sink and rot in the marshes, and spirit… Who was to say if it had even been able to cross to Mandos's Halls? It should not be like that, for elves, yet as I watched I was no longer sure of my own thoughts. I saw him press his lips against his dead father's icy hand as Oropher disappeared from sight. I knew not if the king had sunk into the marsh. I knew not where Thranduil was. Had he left to fight? Had he been drawn away by force? I could not see. He would not let me. He knew I was prying into his mind, and he would not allow the intrusion more than he already had. What befell Oropher's body in that place was lost to me, and there was nothingness…

He stood, then, before me. Silent. Eyes so empty and cold. He had loved, once… He had loved so deeply that he could not go near it anymore. He could not speak of it or act upon it. It was not to be talked of, it was not to be touched, for to love was to suffer so, so greatly… His life was a never ending sacrifice, and along the way he had lost everything… I had suffered much in my time, and I had suffered greatly. So greatly I cannot even describe in words. I knew pain intimately… and even still I felt like falling to my knees and weeping for him…"

"What did he do?" one of the elflings asked in awe, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

"He came next to me and he said, 'Have you had your fill, White Lady?' I knew, then, that I had seen only what he had allowed me to see. I realized I had not seen the death of his children, nor the death of his wife. Those losses were too painful, perhaps, for him to even acknowledge. I did not dare try to find them and venture back into that world he locked away in the labyrinth he had created of his mind. I could not traverse it again without losing my sanity in his maddening illusions and games and false paths," Galaadriel answered. "I looked up at him slowly, my eyes cold and bitter and yet so pitying… 'You have won,' I conceded. He released me from the prison of his mind, and I did not dare look back ever again."

"My lady and queen, you have answered why you do not enter his mind, but you have yet to answer the question of why you ne'er voyage into his realm. Are you not more powerful and wise than he?" one of the elflings asked curiously. "It is said his people are less wise and more dangerous, after all."

Galadriel was quiet, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Less wise and more dangerous, perhaps, but what they lack in wisdom they more than make up for in guile. Guile is what makes them truly dangerous; and none more guileful than the elvenking… When wisdom and guile meet, little elflings, it is not wisdom that oft comes out the victor, for wisdom is based in logic and philosophy, in experience and desire for betterment. Wisdom is not confrontational. Guile, for its part, is knowing how to use the wisdom one has. Guile is knowing how to exploit your own weaknesses and those of others. Guile is to know that your enemy knew you and then to do something unexpected. Or considering your enemy is guileful themselves, something expected which would, to them, be unexpected. Guile is to keep your enemy guessing and always on their guard, and for all of my wisdom I have not his guile. And he is wise to start, even without guile, though not so wise as those of the Noldor. At least, those of the Noldor who are very much older than he… And there are very few Noldor left still living that are older than Thranduil, let alone who have seen even a fraction of what he has or who can boast even an inkling of his experience."

"What of power and why you have not ventured forth into his realm?" another elfling asked.

"Little ones, there is power and knowing how to use it, and then there is power and knowing how to manipulate it. He is powerful. Not as powerful as I, but powerful nonetheless. And he knows how to manipulate it. Very much so. The blood of the Vanyar resides somewhere in his bloodline, of that you can be sure, and that too serves to his advantage," Galadriel answered. She looked up towards the sky and for a moment was silent. Soon, though, she continued. "Of all the power he possesses, his illusions are most powerful of all. They are his focus. They are where his energy was exerted, and though I am more powerful overall, he far surpassed any other in the art of illusion. He ere has and ere will. He knows manipulation and lies, he knows illusion and mind games. What power he has he understands how to manipulate… I do not venture into his realm for fear of what I will behold, for fear of the tricks he will play…"

LotR

"For every illusion and every image seen in that dark forest is tailored to each one who enters it, and oft even whole groups. Venture off of the path in that land, and you will not be seen again unless he so wills it. How can you stay on a path, children, when the path you see is never the right one?" Thranduil finished telling the children, quoting what it was that the Lady Galadriel would say to them when they went to her. The elflings left silently in wonder, digesting all they had been told. And when they brought the question to Galadriel, they departed from her presence much the same.

Galadriel watched after them silently. She did not dare imagine what illusion would be tailored to her, nor did she ever intend to find out. The Lady of the Golden Wood rose from her place beside Celeborn, who watched her silently, and left. She had certain matters to attend to.

LotR

 _You are bold, elven king,_ her voice said in his mind. _Too bold._

 _It was not boldness on my part, Artanis,_ he answered, pacing around her as she was pacing around him. _Merely suggestion. I gave them a task. It was their choice whether or not they desired to know._ He trailed off. _You need not fear entering my lands, Lady Galadriel. You will be spared my illusions, as your husband oft is._

 _Do the rumors disturb you, elvenking? Those that say my refusal to come is because you have forbid me out of fear?_ She questioned.

He smirked ever so slightly, almost mockingly, before the smirk vanished. _On the contrary. I welcome it. Let them think what they will. It is better to be underestimated, I think, than overestimated._ He turned his back on her and walked away, cloak dragging behind him. She watched silently after him. They saw him exactly as he wanted them to. Mortals, elves, her… They all saw him just as he pleased, for his illusions were masterful… She smiled to herself and cut off her connection with him.


End file.
